Harry Potter And The Slytherin's Stone
by Half-BPrincess
Summary: Who said that all heroes had to be brave? Who said that all heroes had to be bold? Who said that all heroes should be Gryffindors? Who said that all heroes want to be heroes? Who said that Harry Potter was a hero? Warning - Strong abuse and swearing. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1: The Dead

- Chapter 1 -

The Dead

James Potter sighed to himself as he slumped over his kitchen table. _We're screwed, _he thought to himself. _We're all so very screwed. _Once more, he looked over the crumpled parchment he held in his hand.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,_

_Born to those who have thrice defied him,_

_Born as the seventh month dies._

_And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,_

_But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not,_

_And either must die at the hand of the other,_

_For neither can live while the other survives._

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord,_

_Will be born as the seventh month dies…_

It was written in Dumbledore's spindly script, and the page also housed any notes that the Order had collectively decided were the most important. James had another three pages of notes and speculations somewhere, but they all added up to the same thing: Either his son or Frank's son was going to kill Voldemort. Or…

But no, the second option didn't bear thinking about. His son wouldn't die. He couldn't die. Harry wasn't even two years old, and already, his life was being planned out for him.

"Dammit, it isn't fair!" He hissed, banging his fist on the table. He jumped up as he felt a hand gently touch his shoulder. "Lils…" James sighed in relief; it had been his wife who'd scared him. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Silencing charm on my shoes," she admitted, with a shake of her fiery red hair. "Didn't want to wake Harry." James ducked his head to her shoulder and when he raised it, some minutes later, tears were glistening in his eyes.

"Why _him_, Lily? Why our Harry? He's too young to have the world relying on him." The tears were rolling freely down his face, now, and he wiped at them savagely with the sleeve of his robes. "And does this mean that we're going to have to stay here 'til he grows up, 'til he can fight? Is Voldemort going to be around for that long?" A tinge of fear crept into James' voice. "And what if he doesn't want to fight? Will they make him? They can't make him; I won't let them!" Once more, he buried his face in the crook of Lily's neck. She rubbed his back in small circles, making soothing noises until his shoulders stopped shaking.

"I know it's hard, James, but our son will do what he has to do. Don't forget, it could be little Neville, too; Harry might be safe." Her brow furrowed slightly, as it often did when she was deep in thought. "After all, Neville is a pure-blood. Surely Voldemort would consider him the bigger threat and mark him?" She nodded to herself, pleased with her own logic. "It'll all be okay, James. We're under the Fidelius charm, anyway; no one can find us here."

"I'm just so worried about him, Lils. Everything's changing so fast. And now with this prophecy… I'm going to have to start behaving, aren't I?" He looked up at Lily's face, and nodded glumly to himself. "No more stupid pranks, no more Prongs with Moony. No more drunken nights…" James trailed off, his expression of horror showing exactly how 'pleased' he would be to give up his firewhiskey.

"It might not even be Harry, James. But yes, you are going to behave and grow up. Though, I don't doubt that the Marauders will be looking to induct our son as their newest member." James blushed a little at this; Sirius had already mentioned the idea a few times. "But that doesn't mean you can't have some fun, James. We'll get through this, I know we will. We'll survive, we always have. Just this time, Harry will be there with us." Lily stretched up onto her toes, and placed a kiss on James' head. "And Sirius, and Remus, and Peter can come round tomorrow for a booze-up. God knows we all need one."

Lily giggled at the incredulous expression of sheer joy on James' face. "What? There was a reason we got married, you know?" James joined in, laughing as he slung an arm around his wife's shoulders.

"I love you, Lils. But I'd love you even more if you let Harry become an honorary Marauder…" James trailed off and gave Lily his best puppy dog impression.

"No, James! I will not have you four being a bad influence on our son!" Lily rolled her eyes at her immature husband.

"You know, it's going to happen anyway…" James yelped as his wife batted his arm. "Okay, okay, you can influence him and he'll be a 'proper Prefect' and a 'real Head Boy'." They both laughed, fondly remembering their school days, only a few years gone.

"I live in hope," Lily giggled out.

"I do love you though, Lily. With all my heart." James rested his forehead on his wife's and stared unwaveringly into her emerald eyes.

"And I, you, James."

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

A few hours later, James sat in the living room of his small cottage, having calmed down some. He had his wand in his hand; making clouds of smoke appear for his son. The little boy was laughing and trying to catch the smoke in his small fists. He pouted and shook his head when it slipped through his hands.

"He looks just like you when he does that," Lily, teased, "with his hair all over the place. Honestly, I can never untangle it!"

"I don't pout!" James protested. "I frown!"

"You're pouting now, love," Lily told him with a giggle. She leant down and kissed him on the cheek, her long, dark-red hair falling in front of their faces, hiding them from the rest of the world.

"Up!" A small voice demanded. Lily and James pulled apart, smiling. James reached down and picked the boy up from the floor to join in the group hug. A dimpled smile appeared on his face and his eyes fell shut. James watched on in awe.

Harry was 15 months old, now, but James never tired of his son. He had jet black hair that always looked a mess, just like his own. He had Lily's eyes, though. They were almond-shaped and startlingly green. He got a dimple in his left cheek when he was really happy, but James wasn't sure whose side of the family that trait came from.

"It's bedtime, James," Lily whispered in his ear. "Don't play any more games with him, he hates sleeping as it is." James reluctantly passed the child over, threw his wand back onto the sofa, and stretched out, yawning. Lily put Harry over her shoulder, using one hand to steady him. The other hand collected a wide assortment of toys as they made their way upstairs.

"He just wants to make mischief at night time!" James called after them. "Marauder stock, see?" Lily smiled ruefully and shook her head.

"Don't you listen to your Daddy, Harry." Lily whispered to her son. "You be Mommy's little angel, instead." She placed a soft kiss to his forehead as they climbed the stairs.

Outside, in the cold that always seemed to be present at Godric's Hollow, a robed figure opened the creaking gate. A skeletal, white hand rose to point the wand it was holding at the door, which burst open at the figure's command. As James came sprinting into the hall, the man was already over the threshold.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-" A shrill laugh, a whispered command, a flash of green light, and James Potter fell to the floor. Lily Potter, however, could be heard screaming upstairs.

Furniture scraped on the floor as she attempted to barricade herself in. She cursed herself for not having her wand with her. How stupid could she be? Nowhere was safe enough to warrant not carrying a weapon anymore.

For the second time that night, a door burst open. She stood with Harry in her arms, facing him. As he entered the room, she dropped the boy into the cot behind her, and threw her arms wide.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" _What a sight she was!_ The man thought. Her lithe figure, coupled with her fiery red hair, half- cowering in front of the most powerful wizard in the world.

"Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside now…" The figure rasped as it advanced on her.

"Not Harry, please no. Take me, kill me instead-" He was in front of her now. She looked up into his eyes, pleading. "Not Harry!" She repeated, tears now streaming down her face. "Please… have mercy… have mercy…"

The hooded figure laughed, throwing his head back with wild abandon. As it turned to look at the woman, she saw the hood had fallen down. She looked upon the face of a man, a man who had once been beautiful. Tom Riddle, the logical part of her brain told her. Lord Voldemort, the panicked part of her brain said. Cruel bastard, the rest screamed. He smiled at her, a smile full of spite and hatred.

"Crucio," he hissed, pointing his wand at her.

The woman fell to the floor screaming almost immediately. Her arms and legs flailed aimlessly. The man lowered his wand, his red eyes nearly burning a hole into the woman.

Slowly, carefully, the woman picked herself up off the floor. Her legs still shook, her arms still trembled, and every part of her still ached, but eventually she stood. Again, she was between Riddle and the cot.

"Stand aside, little Lily. I won't ask again." She didn't move. "Avada Kedavra." Green light reflected all around the room; the boy scrunched up his eyes. Lily crumpled once more. This time, her body was still. Voldemort crouched, his head cocked, so he could look into her emerald eyes.

"What he saw in you, I'll never know. Filthy little Mudblood succubus." He fairly spat the last word. A hand snaked out from underneath his robes and moved up to touch her red hair, and he bent his face to touch his lips to hers. Voldemort paused a few inches away, as a small voice rang out across the room.

"No!" Voldemort looked up, a smirk already on his face. There, his small hands clutching at the bars of his crib, was what he had come for. Messy black hair, like the man he had killed downstairs. Bright-green eyes, like the woman on the floor in front of him.

"Think you can stop me, little boy?" He laughed again. "Avada Kedavra." He flicked his wand, lazily, at the child in the cot, turning away as he did so.

"No!" The boy growled. Voldemort spun, eyes flashing with confusion. The child was glowing, a deep purple colour. The man watched in satisfaction as the flash of green spun at the boy, hitting him in his forehead.

"No!" The boy cried out, in anguish, and the green reappeared, tinged in the same purple as the child. Voldemort stepped back.

"This… can't… be…" His eyes widened as the jet of light hit him solidly in the chest. He felt nothing as the light consumed his entire form. A small part of his brain whispered that it wasn't the end.

Harry seemed to float towards where the man had disappeared, but at the sight of his mother on the floor, he drifted to her.

"Momma?" He whispered. "Momma, wake up!" His small hands reached out to her, tugging at her hair and her clothes. He pressed his face to the ground in front of her, looking directly into her glassy-eyed stare.

"Momma, come play with me!" Harry got louder with each word he cried. "Momma, I need you! Momma!" The boy collapsed into tears, one of his fists wrapped around his mother's index finger.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

A few hundred miles away, somewhere in Scotland, two men sat in frantic discussion. One was old, with long grey hair, an even longer beard and shrewd blue eyes. The younger man was very young, in his early twenties, although to look into his steely onyx eyes, one might be forgiven for assuming that this man was much older than he seemed. His dark hair hung lankly around his face as he leant forwards, his head in his hands.

"He said it was tonight, Albus!" The younger man was clearly anguished. "He said he could get past the Fidelius! You have to do something!"

The older man sat back in his chair, his brow furrowed in thought. His left hand drummed out a pattern on the desk before he offered the younger man a bowl, filled with sweets.

"Bertie Botts Bean, Severus?" He offered, with a twinkle in his eye. At Severus' glare, he merely shrugged and placed the bowl back onto his desk. "There is no way for him to get past the Fidelius, my boy. The Potters are safe. _She _is safe."

"You didn't see him, Headmaster!" The young professor stood and began to pace. "He was to go to the Potters, and then to the Longbottoms! He was so sure of himself! And, as deluded as the man may be, he is no fool! You must do something! You must stop him!"

"I will go to Godric's Hollow, if only to appease you, Severus," Albus sighed quietly. "Stay here, I shall return shortly." He turned abruptly, to the fiery phoenix behind him. "Fawkes? Would you be so kind as to carry me to the gates? And then I would be most grateful if you would return and keep our dear Professor Snape company."

The bird trilled merrily before gracefully launching itself into the air. It slowed, as it passed next to the headmaster, who grasped the bird's tail feathers, and was lifted into the air.

"Oh, and Severus?" he called, as they passed out of the window. "Do tell Minerva I've gone!"

The young man sighed as he watched the elder man reach the gates before apparating away.

"I hope you're right, you old coot," he whispered to himself. "I hope you're right." Severus crossed to the fireplace and took a pinch of Floo powder from the pot above the mantelpiece. He threw it into the fire, calling for Minerva McGonagall as he did so.

A few moments later, a woman's head appeared in the fireplace.

"Yes, Mister Snape?" Her Scottish accent was always pronounced when she was annoyed, and unfortunately for Severus, she was most definitely annoyed.

"It's Professor Snape, as well you know!" He shot the woman an angry glare, at which she rolled her eyes. "Dumbledore asked me to tell you that he has gone to check on the Potters and the Longbottoms. He may be away for a little while."

"Thank you, _Professor _Snape. Is that all?"

"Yes," The man hissed, as Minerva's head popped out of the fireplace. He continued his pacing, making sure to walk by the window, and watch for the Headmaster's return.

As it was, due to his pacing, he missed the man apparating to the gates, and only saw as Albus began to run towards Hagrid's hut. Snape froze. Albus never ran. Something was wrong.

Severus tore down the revolving stairs, having to pause a second for the gargoyle to open enough for him to squeeze past. He ran as fast as he could to the hut, reaching it as an intense pain tore through his left arm. He fell to his knees, screaming, barely noticing as Dumbledore came to his side, and the half-giant exited through the gates.

When the pain in his arm had dulled enough for Severus to be able to think clearly, he ripped his shirtsleeve off to get a better look at his arm. His dark mark was fading already; it was merely red, rather than the usual black.

"He is gone?" Severus looked up at the wizard in front of him, who nodded in response. "And Lily?" Severus only had to look at Dumbledore's watery eyes to know the answer to that.

"I'm so sorry, my boy." At that, Severus collapsed into tears, burying his face into the older man's robes.

"Her son, Severus." Albus spoke softly. "Her son lives. He has her eyes, you know? And all over the world, people will raise their glasses to the memories of James and Lily Potter. But they will drink to Harry Potter - the boy who lived!"


	2. Chapter 2: Freak

- Chapter 2 -

Freak

Number Four Privet Drive hadn't changed much in the past ten years. It wasn't dissimilar in appearance to the other houses on the street. In fact, all of the houses looked remarkably alike. The sun still rose on tidy gardens, although one house now sported several rose bushes and a small tree. Respectable guests still knocked on the door for dinner, carrying wine or flowers. This ritual was now held only once a month, rather than every weekend.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley still lived in the house with their son, Dudley Dursley. Their house was still cluttered with a wide range of photographs; a large, blond boy grinned in most of them. Many years before, the pictures had been of what looked like a pink beach ball adorned with a tuft of blond fluff, different coloured bobble hats in each, surrounded by toys. The Dursley's wedding pictures still sat on Petunia Dursley's dressing table in their bedroom. The pictures of them and their friends had now been relegated to the spare room, although those showing them with a Mr. Garth Roberts had now been burned, due to a minor disagreement about their respective political ideas.

Hidden in the kitchen, behind a rather hideous porcelain dog, was a photograph that the Dursleys wished for nobody to see. It was of a pair of young boys, the first with dark, messy hair and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, the second with blonde hair, who was more rotund. The dark-haired boy was smirking, an arm tossed loosely around the blond boy, who seemed to be wincing at this slight contact. It was the only outward sign that two boys lived here; Dudley, and the nefarious Harry Potter.

Mr and Mrs Dursley were at their wits' end with their nephew. Ever since they had woken up one chilly October morning and found the child in a Moses basket on their doorstep, they had regretted taking him in. The boy had caused them nothing but trouble; he scared their son with his mysterious pranks, he unnerved his teachers with his dark humour, and, somehow, any children at school that offended him seemed to end up getting hurt. Of course, nobody could prove that there was anything wrong with the child, but everybody suspected that something wasn't quite right.

Vernon and Petunia had tried ignoring Harry, but his behaviour had escalated, forcing them to take notice and punish him. Then they had tried punishing him for every little thing that could be linked to him, but this just caused him to cover his tracks more efficiently. Last year, after a heated debate, they had decided to be nice to him in an attempt to gain his favour. They had tried to talk to him, they fed him nearly as much as Dudley, and even gave him a new pair of shoes, but he disregarded their efforts to show him affection, telling them he knew that it was obviously fake, and he had never really cared for them, either.

One of Harry's teachers had sent him to a counsellor, hoping that this would somewhat tame him and maybe even make him stop threatening the other children. The fiasco had ended with a sobbing counsellor, a confused teacher, and a small boy snickering to himself. When Vernon Dursley heard about this, he decided that enough was enough. He couldn't tolerate _that menace_ in his house any longer. The boy would have to be sent away; nothing else could be done. After much deliberation, he and Petunia had decided that there was only one school that could cope with the brat: St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys.

Whilst Vernon called the school and ensured that Harry would have a place at St Brutus's, his nephew was once more up to his usual tricks. He was currently hiding in a patch of bushes near the park, waiting for his favourite, and only, cousin to walk by. Harry's most enjoyable pastime had recently become making Dudley's life as much of a misery as his aunt and uncle made his own. Consequently, Dudley was now rather scared of Harry and seemed to jump whenever Harry was near.

It would be Dudley's birthday soon, Harry knew, and Dudley was probably having another big party. Harry couldn't remember a party for any of his birthdays, but he could remember the events of every single one of Dudley's. After all, many of them were some of his least favourite memories. At Dudley's fifth birthday party, Harry had been repeatedly whacked round the shins, and last year, at Dudley's tenth birthday party, he had been chased up a tree by a particularly vicious dog.

He jerked himself out of his recollections as Dudley waddled past his spot in the bushes. Harry waited until the blond boy was in the shadows directly in front of him before jumping out and grabbing him from behind. Dudley squealed loudly before the arm around his neck jerked sharply into his windpipe.

"Shut up, you overgrown oaf!" Harry hissed menacingly. "I need you to tell me something." Dudley began to tremble at these words; Harry had never wanted him to do anything good nor had there ever been an opportunity to decline him. Harry didn't ask, Harry _told._ "Why did you take that money from your Mum's purse?"

"But I didn't!" The words escaped Dudley's mouth shrilly. "You did!"

"No, Dudders, it was you." Harry spun the other boy around, and glared into his eyes. "_You took that money. Don't you remember? You bought cakes with it. And some water balloons. You threw them at little kids_." Harry's voice had taken on a hypnotic tone; it was a well-used tactic, one that worked every time. Harry watched all traces of defiance slip from his cousin's eyes and felt the boy's shoulders slump. "_You're going to tell them you took that money."_

"Fine. I'll tell them." Dudley sounded dejected; he tore his eyes from Harry's and shuffled his feet. "I'm sorry I lied." Harry smirked, and nodded.

"_Go and tell them. Quickly._" The boy flinched at the venom in Harry's voice but did as he was ordered. He ran, not knowing or caring why he did so, only understanding that he had to obey his cousin.

Harry grinned at the retreating flab and followed on more slowly. Over the past few years, he had learnt that if he focused hard enough, he could make people do what he wanted. It would have been easier to just use this talent to force everyone to do what he wanted, but it made him feel a bit tired if he did it too much, and it didn't work as well on some people, like his Aunt and Uncle and old Mrs Figg. And he could only do it on one person at a time; otherwise, he'd lose control of the first.

By the time he reached Privet Drive, he could hear shouting coming from number four. He slipped around the back of the house; he was forbidden from using the front door. As he edged into the kitchen, the shouting grew louder.

"I KNOW IT WASN'T YOU, DUDLEY! I KNOW IT WAS THAT POTTER BRAT! DON'T YOU DARE LIE TO ME." Uncle Vernon was practically screaming at Dudley. Harry could imagine his face; it'd be purple and blotchy by now. And the vein in his head would be popping out. He couldn't understand Dudley's reply. The stupid git was crying.

"DON'T LIE TO ME, SON! YOU'VE NO REASON TO BE SCARED OF HIM! HE'LL BE GONE SOON ENOUGH!" Harry's head jerked at this. _He was leaving? Where was he going? And why didn't he know anything about it? _Harry threw open the kitchen door and stalked into the living room.

"Where will I be going to, Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked, rather politely. He had learnt years ago that showing any anger or emotion towards his uncle would only lead to a beating.

"THAT'S NONE OF YOUR BUS-"

"St Brutus's," Harry's Aunt Petunia cut Vernon off. "It's an institute for criminal boys, like you."

"Criminal boys like me, Auntie? I think you've got me and Dudders mixed up. He's the one that's been stealing, not me." Harry smirked at his aunt before turning to survey the living room. Uncle Vernon was standing in front of the sofa, his face purple and blotchy as Harry had predicted, but the vein hadn't yet popped out. Dudley was cowering in front of him. It looked as if Uncle Vernon had pulled his son up then promptly dropped him on the floor. Aunt Petunia was in her favourite chair, next to the gas fire. She had one hand pressed to her forehead, the other wrapped around a glass of sherry.

"Go to your room. This is not up for discussion. You're going to St Brutus's, and that's final." Aunt Petunia drained her sherry before sinking even further into her chair. "I expect you be up early tomorrow as you're going to Mrs Figg's house. We're taking our _law-abiding _son to the zoo."

"You heard her, boy! GO!" Vernon bellowed the last word as he advanced. Harry wisely decided to heed his Uncle's words and headed to the cupboard under the stairs. It was small, and it was dark, and it was full of spiders, but it was his. None of the Dursleys would ever go into his cupboard; they were probably scared about what they'd find. Harry, a few years ago, had managed to 'borrow' a bolt from a neighbour's shed, so he could now bolt his cupboard shut, effectively locking the Dursleys out.

Harry rummaged at the bottom of his mattress in the dark, finally finding a ratty old pair of pyjama trousers. He quickly changed into them and curled up with his arms under his head. It was Dudley's birthday tomorrow. He'd be eleven. Harry wanted to go to the zoo with Dudley and Piers more than he would ever admit, but he knew the Dursleys would rather cut their arms and legs off than let him go with them.

When he and Dudley were younger, Dudley had often had the upper hand. He was the oldest, the biggest, and his parents were always on his side. None of that had changed, but Harry had. Harry had taken the time to learn what made Dudley, and the older Dursleys, tick. He knew what they liked, what they hated, and most important of all, he knew what they feared.

Dudley Dursley couldn't stand snakes or spiders of any kind. He liked to kill any bugs that he found because it made him feel powerful. Petunia Dursley got worked up when things weren't in their correct places, or when something wasn't clean. She wouldn't be able to cope a day without her sherry; it was the only thing that made her feel in control. Vernon Dursley devoted himself to his work. It was his desire to run the company one day and sit around all day in a big office, doing nothing. He was scared of not being in charge. It terrified him to have to do what someone else told him, to not be able to do what he wanted.

And they would all happily die of embarrassment.

Over the years, Harry had been able to use these facts to his advantage. For instance, once he'd let Dudley know that there were spiders in his cupboard; he'd stopped taking Harry's things from there.

As he settled himself to sleep, he wished fervently that Mrs Figg wouldn't be able to look after him tomorrow. Maybe she'd have an accident or something and he'd be able to go to the zoo. He'd never been to the zoo before, but he'd read about all of the animals. Harry smiled a little in his sleep, a small dimple appearing on his left cheek.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Harry awoke to the sound of his Aunt Petunia's shrill voice. It pierced through his skull, and he groggily covered his ears.

"Up! Get up! Now!" she screeched. "I told you to be up early, useless boy!" Harry sat with a start as his aunt rapped on the door. "Up!" Harry heard the clicking of her heels on the wooden floor move towards the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the cooker.

With a smirk to himself, he recalled the dream he had been having before his rude awakening. Mrs Figg had been run over by a car. It was mildly satisfying to imagine the batty old woman with a broken leg – although, if she'd died, it would surely have been much more amusing.

Harry stretched out as much as he could in his cupboard then delved into the pile of clothes at the bottom of his mattress for something reasonably decent to wear. A few minutes later, he entered the kitchen in a bottle-green jumper (three sizes too big) and a pair of jeans (which were too long for him) with a hole in the knee.

"Finally!" his aunt hissed. "Look after the bacon, and do some eggs. I want everything perfect on my special boy's birthday!" she said, the latter with a false enthusiasm that made Harry want to retch.

Instead of throwing up, Harry made his way carefully past the table, which was piled high with Dudley's birthday presents. It looked like Dudley had gotten the new television he'd wanted, along with the new computer and the pair of skis. It was a mystery to Harry as to why his cousin wanted skis; after all, the Dursleys had never taken him skiing. And it wasn't as if Dudley ever exercised, except to try to run away from him, which always failed miserably. Harry didn't look it, but he was fast.

Harry was very thin. The Dursleys accounted this to the small amount of food they gave him, but Harry knew it wasn't. Late at night, when they were sleeping or when they were out, he'd sneak food from the kitchen. He always kept a store of biscuits and cheese under a floorboard in his cupboard. Once, when he was about six, they'd locked him in his cupboard for two whole days without any food. Harry had thought he was going to die.

Harry watched his aunt carefully as she disappeared from the room, on the pretence of 'getting her darling angels up', but in reality was probably a trip to the sherry. Sure enough, a few moments later, he could hear the tinkling of glasses from the sitting room. Knowing that he was alone, he scraped up a couple of pieces of the bacon and hungrily gobbled them down. However, before he had time to eat anymore, his uncle entered the room.

Vernon Dursley was a big, beefy man with a quick temper and a streak of cruelty that had been ingrained in him by his father. Harry visibly shrank as Vernon entered the room, subconsciously hoping not to be noticed. However, unfortunately for Harry, his uncle was in a bad mood. He'd been woken up by his wife's caterwauling and his son screaming that he wanted food.

As he walked past Harry, he cuffed him in the back of the head and dug at his ribs.

"Where the hell is my breakfast, boy?" He punctuated the last word with a punch to Harry's side. Harry grunted in pain and tensed, making sure he was still cooking.

"It's coming, Uncle," he whimpered. "One more minute, less even!" Apparently satisfied, Vernon sat himself at the far end of the table and hid behind a newspaper. Harry quickly dished up breakfast and hurried to give a plate to his uncle.

He put the other two plates in any space on the table he could find, carefully moving presents to make room. Then, he went back to the cooker and put several slices of bread under the grill, hiding another few pieces under his jumper. He'd eat the bread back in his cupboard or at Mrs Figg's.

Mrs Figg was a batty old woman who lived two streets away. Her whole house stunk of cabbage and there were always at least five cats in residence. At least Mrs Figg would feed him, though. And he could sit on the sofa there. Once, she'd even let him curl up and take a nap when he'd been having a particularly bad day. But then he'd have to look at a load of pictures of cats and help rewrite recipes, and the day that she'd let him sleep, she'd also made him _knit._

Dudley and Harry's Aunt Petunia entered the room then, disturbing Harry's inner musings.

"Breakfast's on the table," Harry muttered, but neither heard him due to Dudley's shriek of delight at the mound of presents. He rushed towards them and began to count, grabbing at the food on both plates and stuffing it greedily into his mouth.

"There's only thirty-six." His face fell. "I had thirty-seven last year. That's not fair!" Dudley had begun to wail, but he stopped when he saw Harry. "You took my presents, didn't you?" He tottered over and punched Harry squarely in the stomach before turning back round to his parents. "I want more presents!"

Luckily for Petunia, the phone rang and she disappeared, leaving Harry curled up on the floor and Vernon attempting to calm his precious son. When she re-entered the room a few minutes later, Harry had managed to crawl to the corner of the kitchen and Vernon had promised Dudley two more presents.

"Bad news, Vernon." Petunia had a glass of sherry in her hand. Harry checked his battered watch; it read ten past nine. _Bit early for her to be drinking in front of people_, he thought to himself. She took another sip of sherry to fortify herself.

"Well, spit it out then, woman!" Uncle Vernon snapped, his beady eyes not moving from his newspaper.

"It's Mrs Figg. She can't take the boy." With this, Petunia downed the rest of her glass before digging through a cupboard to produce a bottle of gin.

"Why the bloody hell not?" Petunia seemed unfazed by her husband's roar of anger, merely taking a slightly larger gulp of gin.

"A car accident. I think it was Mr. Thomas' eldest son, Derek. Broken her leg." Petunia seemed indifferent, but Harry was ecstatic. Admittedly, he was a little freaked out that it had happened almost exactly like his dream, but it was brilliant!

"Isn't there anyone else that can take him?" His uncle sounded a bit desperate to Harry's ears.

"Like who, Vernon?" His aunt was whining; she always did when she drank. "Just leave him here!"

"I suppose…" Vernon considered it for a minute. "Maybe if we locked him in his cupboard…" Harry grimaced at this. Usually, he didn't get locked in his cupboard unless he did something wrong, like the time he'd been running away from Dudley's gang and had then appeared on the school roof. He'd been in the cupboard for a week that time, though they did give him food.

Then again, at least that was one of the times he knew what he'd done wrong. When he was younger, the Dursleys had beaten him every time he mentioned things like wizards and goblins and ghosts in his story books. Or when bad things happened to them, like the time Dudley got detention, or when Uncle Vernon hadn't gotten the promotion he'd wanted . . . Harry got punished a lot for those.

"Why? Afraid I'll blow up the house?" Harry asked petulantly. Uncle Vernon wouldn't hurt him too badly. Aunt Petunia's friend was visiting tomorrow and she knew he existed, she'd notice… He hoped.

"He'll have to come with us, Vernon!" Petunia paused to hiccup. "What if he were to get to my china?" Hearing this from his own mother, Dudley began to sob.

"I…I…no…mommy…please…no!" However, before Dudley could really get into his stride, the doorbell went. It was Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss. Immediately, all of the Dursleys quieted. After all, they had to show the rest of the world what a normal, well-adjusted family they were.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

And so it was that two hours later, Harry found himself at the zoo. Dudley and Piers had wanted to see all of the big animals, and had both loved the monkeys, so Harry had been forced to follow along with them. However, during the course of the morning, Harry had had his first ever ice lolly.

The Dursleys had been getting the largest possible ice creams for Dudley and Piers and hadn't managed to spirit Harry away before the saleswoman could ask what he wanted.

"Can I have the biggest, most chocolate-ly ice cream there is, please?" Harry had asked the woman, barely looking at his uncle.

"Sure, honey." She'd turned to prepare it until Vernon had stepped in.

"Erm, no. He won't be having that. The _boy _here is lactose intolerant." Harry flinched at the force the man had used whilst squeezing his shoulder.

"Can I have the biggest one without milk then?" Vernon had had no response to this, so Harry had gotten a rocket lolly. He didn't understand what all the fuss was about, really. It was just frozen fruit juice, really.

Finally, by mid-afternoon, the Dursleys had reached the one place that Harry was excited to go to: the reptile house. It was quite dark and cool, as well. Harry wished his cupboard was cool, too; in the summer, it got awfully stuffy and hot. But this room was nice; it was really big, too. Set into the walls were glass cases, most containing boring things like frogs and toads and various types of gecko and iguana.

Dudley and Piers, of course, had headed straight for the biggest, most dangerous snake. Harry stood a little way away, watching to see when they'd get bored. Harry loved snakes. He'd never seen one, but they seemed to be ever so beautiful and majestic.

"Why won't it move?" Dudley whined. "I want it to move!" Piers banged on the glass a few times before both boys moved to more energetic creatures. Harry, meanwhile, headed for the tank they'd abandoned.

As soon as Harry laid eyes on the snake, he knew that he'd been right. This snake was a beautiful dark green colour and gigantic. It was coiled up, but even as Harry watched, it began to slowly slither to a small pool of water.

"Oh, you're so beautiful, aren't you?" Harry mumbled to himself. The snake suddenly paused, and stared straight at him. Its eyes were a warm amber colour. _No, _Harry thought, _her eyes. _A second later, he realised how irrational this was. How the hell would he know if the damn snake was a male or female?

"Are you a girlie, then?" He was so busy musing this that he barely noticed the snake's head bobbing. _Almost like she's nodding._

"Must be horrible, stuck in here." Again, the snake 'nodded'. "I bet it's like my cupboard. Not enough room to breathe, is it really?" The snake shook her head.

Harry frowned. The snake seemed to be communicating with him, but surely that was impossible… Only one way to tell, really.

"Can you understand me?" Nod. "Can you understand everyone?" Shake. "Can you…umm… talk or something?"

"Yesssss!" Harry flinched. That voice, rasping and hoarse, had come from in front of him. He had seen the snake's mouth open. That voice had been the snake!

"Will you releasssssse me, young massssster?" Harry stared, open mouthed at the snake. "Pleasssssse! I have been ssssssstuck in thissssss place too long!" Harry could hear the longing and wistfulness in the snake's voice.

"If I did let you go, how would I do it? And what would I get for it?" Harry's brow furrowed. "I wouldn't want to get in any trouble; I mean, they'd know it was me."

"Vanisssssssssh the glass! Make it go away!" _Vanish the glass? Make it disappear? He'd done that to some of Dudley's things before…_

"What's in it for me?" Harry repeated.

"I can bite sssssomeone for the young ssssssir!" Harry considered for a moment, before concentrating on making the glass disappear.

"One of the fat ones," he whispered, moving away from the tank. He didn't want to be anywhere near the snake when it bit Vernon or Dudley. As Harry reached the other end of the building, the snake's head popped out of the tank.

The first person to notice was Aunt Petunia, who'd been hiding near the door.

"Ssss…snake!" She shrieked before running out of the door. Vernon stood in front of Piers and Dudley then pushed Harry in between him and the snake. The other people in the reptile house screamed, and they either headed for the door or the furthest corner from the snake.

The snake was, by this time, fully out of the tank, and she looked up at Harry and seemed to grin before biting the leg of an overweight woman stumbling past. Harry came very close to growling and stamping his foot. The stupid snake had gotten one over on him!

An hour or two later, the Dursleys and Piers' parents were sitting in the living room; Harry was in the kitchen making tea. Both Dudley and Piers were telling their parents how the snake had tried to kill them (by glaring) and how the keeper had only managed to catch it thanks to their help (by cowering in the corner, and nearly peeing themselves).

"It was so weird, though," Piers was telling his father. "The glass just disappeared."

"Yeah, can't imagine what could've happened," Dudley agreed.

"Maybe your cousin knows; he was right next to the tank before it disappeared."

Uncle Vernon waited until the Polkiss family had left before laying into Harry.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU DO, BOY?" he had screamed, and with a firm grip on Harry's hair, he had dragged him into the kitchen. "I KNOW IT WAS YOU! DON'T YOU DARE LIE TO ME!"

"I…I…wasn't…didn't…no…please…no…" Harry's cries were cut off by Vernon's fist hitting his stomach, repeatedly.

"TELL ME WHAT YOU DID!" A punch to the face, Harry felt his glasses snap again, and his nose began to spurt blood.

"…didn't mean…sorry… please… so sorry…" Vernon let go of the dark mass of hair he was holding and the boy dropped to the ground, instinctively curling into a foetal position. Harry looked up at his uncle fearfully, only to see the man removing his belt. "…no…please….not again…stop…please…" Harry's feeble moans were cut off by the belt hitting his side, hard.

"THIS'LL TEACH YOU, BOY!" The belt hit his back this time, and again, and again, and again, until Harry lost count of how many times he'd been hit.

"..sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry…" Harry chanted, although to whom he was sorry, he didn't know. After a time, the lashings stopped.

"You bled all over my floor!" A menacing whisper in his ear. His aunt. "Clean it. Then go and stay in your cupboard. Forever."

Harry scrambled to the cupboard, pulled out a cleaning solution, and began to scrub. His back and ribs were so sore that it hurt him to move, but he didn't want to risk what his uncle might do if he dared to disobey.

Once the floor was shining again, Harry got to his feet and stumbled to his cupboard, his uncle following. As the door was slammed shut behind him, he heard his uncle scream hoarsely at him.

"I WON'T HAVE THAT SORT OF BEHAVIOUR IN MY HOUSE, YOU FREAK!" Freak. Harry had been called it at school a lot, his baggy clothes and broken glasses setting him apart from the other children. Freak. A teacher had called him one once, when her wig had inexplicably turned blue in a one to one maths lesson. Freak. Petunia had called him one, when a strange man in a top hat had bowed to him in a shop. Freak. This was him. Freak. This was life. Freak. This was Harry Potter.

Freak.


	3. Chapter 3: The Letters

- Chapter 3 -

The Letters

Except for the beating he received, the snake-escape was one of the best things to happen to Harry that year. For one thing, he hadn't been allowed out of the cupboard for several weeks, so he managed to miss the end of school. Doubtless, Vernon had thought it would upset him not to be able to say goodbye to his friends. _Ha, _thought Harry, _the joke's on him. _For Harry had no friends to say goodbye to; Dudley's gang saw to that.

When he was younger, some of the teachers had wondered where he would disappear to. One had even called a meeting with Vernon and Petunia. Harry had nearly gotten excited at this, but in hindsight, he should've known better. None of his teachers liked him, not really. Most of them just ignored him.

When the teachers asked why he didn't go to school, Petunia had cried.

"He's not a bad boy!" she had sobbed. "But we… we don't know what to do with him anymore! We send him with Dudley in the mornings, and he comes back home, and how're we supposed to know if he comes or not? And he bullies our Dudley, too! Oh, we can't stop him!"

And the bastards had believed her.

Then had come the counsellor. Harry hadn't meant to make the woman cry, it had just happened. In retrospect, it had probably made the teachers agree with his aunt even further, but at the time it had just been a bit of fun. Now, none of the teachers seemed to care.

Another good thing about being locked in the cupboard was that the Dursleys didn't think he could get out. They didn't know that if he dragged his palm across the inside of the door, just the right way, the bolt on the outside of the door would unlock. And so, they didn't notice when food went missing. Nice food, too, like biscuits and cake.

And probably the best, while he was in the cupboard, nobody beat him. No, that was definitely the best part about being in the cupboard. He was safe in his cupboard. He could just curl up and sleep and let his wounds heal. His back and his sides were pretty much healed by the time they let him out; they were just thin scars with a couple of scabs here and there.

All in all, Harry hadn't minded being in the cupboard. Though, now he was out, and he had to contend with Dudley's gang. Every morning, one or another of them came to Privet Drive to collect Dudley.

The whole gang liked to indulge in Dudley's favourite sport: Harry-hunting. Most days, he hid and ran when they came around, but sometimes he couldn't get away. The last time that had happened, Harry had gotten beaten up. That had been a really bad day. They'd cornered him, and Harry had tried to use his controlling voice to make them stop, but it hadn't worked. After that, Harry thought he could only use it on one person at a time. Even if he could use it on more people, it was better not to risk it again.

So, Harry spent a lot of time out of the house, just walking around. In some ways, he couldn't wait until the end of the summer. He'd be going away for school, away from his uncle, away from his aunt, away from his cousin. Maybe, just maybe, things would be different. Maybe he wouldn't be beaten. Maybe he'd get enough to eat. Maybe he'd even have a friend.

While he'd been in his cupboard, Petunia had taken Dudley to get his new school uniform. Dudley was going to Uncle Vernon's old school, Smeltings. Smeltings boys had a really strange uniform. Privately, Harry was glad that he didn't have to wear anything like it. The uniform was mostly a dark brown colour, with little orange tassels in odd places. They had to wear a straw hat all the time, and they carried knobbly sticks to hit each other with.

Harry's aunt and uncle had tears in their eyes as they looked at Dudley. They said they were tears of pride, but Harry thought it was tears of joy that Dudley would be leaving, too. As he tried not to snigger, Harry wondered if it was possible to break ribs from laughing, because if it was possible, he might just do it later.

When Harry got up the next morning, there was a terrible smell coming from the kitchen. He hurriedly got dressed and headed in, hoping that one (or all) of the Dursleys had died and that it was their rotting bodies he smelled. When he entered the room however, he learnt he had no such good luck.

The smell seemed to be coming from the sink, so Harry ambled over for a closer look. The tub was full of scraps of cloth in dirty, grey water.

"That'll be _your _uniform," Petunia told him as she breezed through the kitchen. Harry looked again, thoughtfully. _Most of them aren't really scraps of cloth, they could be actual clothes…_

"Why are they wet?" He asked curiously.

"Don't ask questions!" His aunt threw out her usual remark before deciding to answer anyway. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things grey."

Harry very nearly opened his mouth to ask why he couldn't have some of his own clothes for his new school, but decided to keep his mouth shut as his uncle and cousin walked in.

Like normal, Harry seemed to huddle in on himself, and again, like normal, Vernon Dursley saw and cuffed the back of his head slightly harder than usual. Harry put a hand up to his head; he could feel a headache coming already.

As they all sat down at the table, they heard the clicking of the letterbox.

"Get the post, Dudley." Vernon said, his mouth full of food and his face hidden behind his newspaper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the post, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Hit him with your Smeltings stick, Dudley."

Harry tried, and failed, to dodge the stick, which hit him squarely in the ribs and went to get the post. There was a pile of letters on the doormat: A postcard for Uncle Vernon, three bills, two magazines for Petunia, a small package that looked like it contained a video tape, presumably for Dudley, and a letter for Harry.

Harry stared at it uncomprehendingly. This was the first letter that anyone had ever sent him. He just didn't get letters. It didn't make any sense. Who would ever write to him? You had to have a friend or someone who cared about you, at least, to write to you. So why did Harry have a letter?

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of what looked like - no it couldn't be - parchment. Nobody used parchment anymore, not since the Romans, or the Vikings, or Egyptians or somebody a long time ago, anyway. The address was written in ink that was the same colour as his eyes, emerald green.

_Mr H. Potter_

_ The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_ 4 Privet Drive_

_ Little Whinging_

_ Surrey_

Harry's eyes were still glued to the envelope when he heard a floorboard creak. His hands disappeared behind his back, taking the letter with them, and his eyes flew to the figure in the doorway.

"Dad!" His cousin's eyes were wide, his podgy face scrunched up in indignation. "Dad, Harry's got a letter! Why haven't I got a letter?"

"I haven't got anything!" Harry called back to the kitchen. "Why would I have a letter?"

"It's behind your back, you liar! I saw it!" Dudley's face was taking on the purplish shades that his father's often did by now. "Take it off him, Dad!"

"Boy!" Harry's shoulders slumped at his Uncle's roar. There was no way that his Uncle would let him keep his letter. Maybe whoever it was would send another. He could hope, at least. "Get in here boy!"

Harry trudged into the kitchen, purposefully dragging his feet the way his aunt hated. His head bowed, he sulkily threw the letter in front of his uncle.

"Can I at least read it?" Harry attempted some modicum of manners, but all for naught. His Uncle's face went from red, to green, to whiter than paper in the space of a sentence.

"Petunia…" His voice, already a hoarse whisper, trailed off. "It's _them!"_ Petunia's face seemed to compete with Vernon's for the palest skin.

"Who?" Dudley and Harry called out together before looking at the other in disgust.

"It's my letter, I have a right to know!" Harry all but screamed at his aunt and uncle.

"You can tell me, I'm part of the family, he's not!" Dudley whined, looking angelically at his mother.

"Out! The pair of you." Petunia glared at both boys and ushered them out of the room. Harry and Dudley both scowled at each other. Dudley muttered under his breath mutinously.

However, as soon as the door closed, Dudley's ear was at the keyhole and Harry's at the crack at the bottom of the door.

"Burn it, Vernon," was all they heard.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Three days had passed since the first letter had appeared, and Harry knew that several letters had been received every day since the first. His Uncle Vernon either burned them or ripped them to pieces, although once, Petunia had blended one with a mushy tomato.

Uncle Vernon had also appeared in the doorway of Harry's cupboard and had told him in no uncertain terms that he was growing too big for the small space and should move into Dudley's second bedroom immediately. Harry had, of course, protested, wanting to stay in his sanctuary. However, the beefy man had merely snapped and told him to move repeatedly.

And so it was that Harry found himself hastily carrying all of his possessions upstairs. It only took him two trips and one box. He didn't like the room he was in now. With only his meagre belongings spread about the place, it seemed very Spartan. Harry didn't have many things that could be put out; he mainly owned clothes and books which he had 'borrowed' from various libraries.

The letters that followed this move were no longer labelled _Mr H. Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs. _Instead, they were addressed to _Mr H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom. _Harry wondered how they, whoever it was sending the letters, knew that he'd moved rooms.

He wandered aimlessly in his newfound space, his mind utterly consumed with trying to find a solution to getting his hands on one of the letters. The trick would be to take a letter without anybody noticing. This wouldn't be too difficult, as no less than four letters had arrived yesterday. One missing wouldn't be questioned too thoroughly.

The biggest issue would be getting to the post. Harry knew that his Uncle had taken to sleeping at the front door so that Harry couldn't take the letters when they were posted. _Perhaps, _Harry thought to himself, _I could get the letter before it came through the door?_

The next morning, an alarm clock with a smashed face (from one of Dudley's temper tantrums) woke Harry at six o'clock. He hurriedly shut it off, lest it woke any of the Dursleys, and reached for his glasses.

Sneaking towards the wardrobe, Harry quickly donned a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He snuck through the house and out the back door, snagging a trowel from his Aunt's potting shed as he made his way around to the front of his house. Harry finally settled himself in front of one of the flowerbeds near the gate and kneeled, leaning into the soil as if he were weeding.

After about forty minutes of waiting, the postman appeared at the bottom of the road. Harry bent his head and waited until he heard the gate creak open.

"Here, I'll have those off you," Harry said brightly as he stood up, gathering the stack of post from the slightly bewildered man. "Thanks, mister." He flicked through them briefly, before kneeling back down and messing with the soil a little. Harry's fingers itched to race through the pile of letters and find _his _letter, but he knew he couldn't raise any suspicion.

Seven minutes later, the postman exited the street, sparing a wave and a smile for the young boy gardening early in the morning. Harry sighed gratefully, hid the trowel in a bush, and turned to the pile of mail. He skimmed through the top half of the pile, before coming to the first of his many letters. There were six today, but Vernon would only get to burn five. He separated one from the others and stared at it wistfully.

Harry only looked at it for one more second before making his decision. He stuffed it in the waistband of his trousers, carefully pulling his t-shirt over it so it couldn't be seen, then stuffed the rest of the post through the letterbox. He ran around the back of the house and entered the kitchen as quickly as he could, praying that nobody else would be awake.

There were the sounds of creaking, and ripping as Harry quietly sifted through the cupboards, finding a suitable breakfast. By the time his Uncle had found his way to the kitchen, Harry was already seated at the table, eating a bowl of bran flakes.

"Won't see any of these letters boy!" Vernon waved one at Harry spitefully before setting it alight in the sink. Harry scowled down at his cereal, wincing as the larger man slapped him.

"I want you out of the house today, boy. I'm taking Petunia and Dudley shopping for school things. Don't want you back till after seven." He took on a leery tone. "Or you'll regret it."

Harry gulped, nodded, and promptly left via the kitchen door. As soon as Harry was out of sight of the house, he was besieged by an urge to open the letter. Harry's hand crept towards the bottom of his top before a passing car reminded him where he was. Harry jerked back to himself and headed for the park. It was early enough that not many people would be there but late enough for it to be fairly warm.

When Harry reached the park, he headed past the children's adventure park and around the large lake to the wooded area beyond. Harry worked his way further in, his progress hampered by small bushes, and tree stumps that always seemed to be straight ahead of him. After about ten minutes, Harry judged that he was far enough away from the edge of the wood to be seen and promptly sat on the nearest tree stump.

Without further ado, he pulled the letter, almost reverently, from its hiding place. As he turned the envelope over, he saw a green wax seal with a coat of arms on it. There were four animals that seemed to be coming out of it, surrounding an ornate letter 'H'. In the top left corner, there was a lion, to its right, a snake, below that a large bird that Harry thought was either an eagle or a hawk, and to the left of the bird was a badger. All in all, it was a rather odd assortment of animals. Harry felt that had they been left in a room together, they'd all end up dead, some way or another.

Harry gently pulled the wax seal away from the heavy parchment and almost reverently slid the vellum out of the envelope. He smoothed his fingers across its surface, before finally unfolding it.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_ Terms begins on 1 September. If your owl is not forthcoming, by 31 July, please expect a visitation from one of our staff members, who will be expecting you to provide details of your alternative magical schooling._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Behind this piece of parchment, was another, which Harry quickly perused.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Uniform_

_First-year students will require;_

_Thee sets of plain work robes (black)_

_One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_One pair of protective boots (dragon hide or similar)_

_One plain pointed hat for dress wear_

_One set of dress robes for dress wear_

_Please be advised that students will also be required to wear the following items of clothing during all lessons;_

_Shirt (White)_

_Trousers/Pleated skirt (Dark grey)_

_Black socks_

_Black shoes/boots_

_Hogwarts issue jumper (Dark grey)_

_Hogwarts issue tie (Black)_

_All 'Hogwarts issue' items of clothing may be purchased from Madam Malkin's Robery, located in Diagon Alley, London. Please note that all pupils' clothes should also carry name tags._

_Set Books_

_All first-year students should have a copy of each of the following;_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

_Astronomical Occurences (Beginners) by Patricia Starlet_

_Hogwarts: A History_

_All books will be made available at Flourish and Blotts, located in Diagon Alley, London. Please note that all pupil's books should also carry name tags._

_Other Equipment_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 box of 'Slug's Beginner Potions Ingredients'_

_1 set of phials (glass or crystal)_

_1 set brass scales_

_1 telescope (grade 3)_

_Students will also be expected to bring appropriate amounts of ink, parchment and quills to last throughout the school year._

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad OR a rat._

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS._

Harry's eyebrows furrowed as he finished reading the letter. Sighing to himself, he carefully read it over once more. _It looks real enough, _he thought to himself, _but it can't be._

"Impossible!" he hissed to himself. "Wizards and witches don't exist. It's a joke. It _has _to be." _But what if it's not? _A small voice in the back of his mind asked. _Haven't strange things always happened around you? Look at that snake a few weeks ago…_ "If it is real…" Harry trailed off, his mind frantically hunting a way that would allow him to still attend, yet not be made a fool of. "Aha! …please expect a visitation…" The words all but leapt off of the page, presenting him with a simple answer; He would wait and see…

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Harry didn't arrive back at the Dursleys' house, as he liked to think of it, until near dark. He had spent the entire day exploring even further. If his calculations were correct, he could now recognise most places in a three mile radius of the house he lived in. The other children still avoided him like the plague, though.

Harry hesitantly slid through the kitchen door and sidled his way over to the fridge. He opened it slowly, managing to extricate a sausage roll and a pork pie. He stuffed them under his t-shirt, hoping to avoid his aunt and uncle finding out he had taken food.

He leaned into the connecting door to the hallway, no sound; all the better. The door creaked slightly as it opened. At the sound, Harry scuttled as quickly as he could to his cupboard, to his sanctuary.

"Running from something, boy?" Vernon Dursley's voice was hard, but his words are slurred. Drunk. Again.

"No, Uncle Vernon." Harry tried to edge away. He could see his cupboard now. Just a few more steps…

"Come here, boy!" The slight slur has disappeared, Vernon's words suddenly commanding. Harry turned slowly, and, dragging his feet, walked towards his uncle.

The first clout to his head took him by surprise; Vernon usually at least gave some excuse for hitting him. The left hook to his stomach knocked him to the ground. Harry curled into the foetal position, almost as soon as he hit the ground. His arms covered his face, and his legs curled up to protect his most sensitive parts. Unfortunately, this left his back, sides, chest and most of his head vulnerable to Vernon's brutal kicks.

By the time the eldest Dursley had finished beating his nephew, he was feeling quite well. Meanwhile on the floor, silent tears streaked Harry's face. At the sound of the stairs creaking under his uncle's weight, he began the crawl to his cupboard before remembering his room now lay up a flight of stairs.

Harry shuddered at the sore spots he knew would become bruises as he climbed what felt like ten-thousand metres up. Just before he collapsed into oblivion, he remembered he had food to eat. He hurriedly scoffed it down before his head hit the lumpy pillow, and he drifted off to sleep.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

A full week after Vernon had beaten him, Harry learnt to exactly what extent his uncle was losing it. The letters had continued to arrive at the house no matter what the Dursleys did; Mr. Dursley had nailed the mailbox shut so seven letters were pushed through various cracks in doorframes and the window of the downstairs loo. Vernon nailed those shut too.

A dozen letters arrived rolled up in as many eggs; Mrs. Dursley had stopped cooking anything that needed eggs. Four letters arrived in a whited-out milk-bottle; The Dursleys cancelled everything delivered to them.

Petunia found no less than nine letters whilst gardening, and Dudley found two in his newest television when he smashed it. Vernon had six delivered to his workplace and three hidden in his car.

Harry had learnt that it was best to avoid his uncle when the letters appeared; Vernon's anger was _always _transferred to Harry, and frankly, the boy didn't need any more bruises.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

By half past ten on Sunday morning, Harry still couldn't figure out why his uncle was wearing a gleeful expression. He sat in his favourite armchair, feverishly rubbing his hands together. Dudley was watching him, looking more than slightly confused.

"Dad?" He said slowly. "Why are you so happy?"

"It's Sunday. No post on Sundays." His grin became more manic as he leapt to his feet. "No damn post on Sundays! No stupid fucking letters for that stupid fucking brat!" His eyes twitched towards Harry's small figure, peering out of the window.

"What are those letters, Daddy?"

"Never you mind, Dudders. Don't you…AUGH!" Harry spun round at the sound, quickly enough to see his uncle pulling a letter from his ear.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS…" Another letter flew out from the chimney only to land squarely in the beefy man's mouth. Harry watched in undisguised amusement as a whole host of letters were thrown up into the air. The three Dursley's ducked, however too slowly for Dudley, who began crying very loudly as three hit his face.

"Muh…muh…mummy…" he snivelled. "Make it stop! Please…" Petunia rolled her eyes and began to crawl towards her sherry bottle. Vernon was turning purple.

"OUT!" He bellowed. "EVERYBODY OUT! GET YOUR THINGS! WE'RE LEAVING!" Petunia froze with one hand stretched out towards the liquor. Dudley's face had frozen with his mouth forced open in a frown, tears still streaming down his face. Harry had put his hand in front of his mouth in an attempt to stop laughing.

One hour and eighteen minutes later, three Dursleys and Harry were uncomfortably squashed into the family car. The car itself was fairly large, but the youngest Dursley's luggage consisting of 'essentials' was around the size of the eldest Dursley.

Dudley himself had huddled into the farthest corner of the car away from his father. He didn't say much, but all of the occupants of the vehicle were growing tired of the almost constant sniffling. Petunia was clutching her small bag of things to herself, knuckles white. Whenever she shifted, Harry could hear the tell-tale clinking of bottles.

Vernon hadn't said a word to any of them since he had ordered them into the car at least forty minutes previously. He did, however, mutter a lot.

"Fucking freaks…got to get away from…freak…all go fucking die…"

Harry sat quietly, staring pensively out of the window. He watched as they sped through the city then, later, through the countryside. It was the first time he'd ever been so far away from the Dursley's house.

Eventually they stopped at a small, dilapidated bed and breakfast. Vernon made Dudley and Harry share a room with twin beds. Dudley stole all of Harry's blankets, claiming to be cold. Harry didn't really mind; as soon as Dudley fell to sleep he took them back.

When they were having breakfast the next morning, the elderly woman who ran the place hobbled over to them.

"I trust that one of you is a Mr. H. Potter?" she croaked, smiling toothily as Harry nodded at himself. "A large number of letters have arrived for you."

"I'll take them." Vernon stood and followed the woman. Twenty minutes later, they were driving again.

The next two nights passed in much the same manner; they drove, drove some more, then stopped at a bed and breakfast. Then the letters came, and they invariably left again. The days bled into each other, so Harry couldn't tell whether they'd passed the beautiful black horse today, or yesterday, or even the day before.

After they'd driven for around four hours, in silence, they stopped in the middle of a forest. Vernon got out of the car, and began to pace.

"Mummy, Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley sounded utterly dejected. "It's the thirtieth today, there's a program about sharks on tonight! Can't we stay somewhere with a TV?" Before Petunia could answer, her husband twitched his head at the car and all but ran back.

This time they drove till the hit the coast. Vernon once more got out of the car, although he immediately disappeared off. Dudley started screaming when he tried to get out and realised he was locked in. Petunia pulled faces at her ever-depleting sherry supply but still took an overly large swig. Harry was still thinking about what Dudley had said earlier.

If Dudley was right about the date, and he usually was, then tomorrow would be Wednesday the thirty-first. His eleventh birthday. Of course, his birthdays were never fun; Last year, his uncle had gotten very drunk and decided that an appropriate present would be to break one of his toes for each of his years. Though this year, maybe this year would be better. Could be better.

After all, that letter had specifically said that someone would come on the thirty-first. And with the way the letters had followed them, Harry was almost sure that it couldn't be a hoax. Unless it was one of the Dursleys. He hoped it wasn't.

Harry idly watched the raindrops run down his window. It was difficult to follow just one, as it was raining quite heavily. In fact, Harry realised, it was impossible to see anything outside. He shifted nervously in his seat.

By the time Vernon had returned, Petunia was very drunk, Dudley's wailing had turned into hoarse moans, and Harry's eyes were wide, looking around almost frantically. Vernon smiled, a sight which did little to reassure the occupants of the car.

"Come on. I've found us a place they'll never reach us!" His eyes shone manically as he led them to a small boat and began to row towards a patch of grey fuzz, according to Harry's eyes. As they drew closer, Harry realised it was a small island on which was an even smaller shack.

Vernon led them in proudly. He handed out what he called 'rations': an apple and a small bar of chocolate each. Dudley punched his cousin in the side as he stole Harry's half eaten apple and all of his chocolate.

Petunia let her husband eat hers, seeming to believe her sherry was an adequate substitute for food. Surely enough, however, her inebriated state made her very happy, second only to Vernon.

"No damn letters here!" he sung to himself gleefully. He batted at Harry's head but luckily for Harry, he only caught a glancing blow. His mood didn't even dim when he failed to start a fire with the chocolate wrappers or when Dudley complained about having to sleep on a sofa or when a fierce gust of wind from the storm made the building shake.

Harry, of course, was left with the floor in front of the grate. He lay awake, staring into the dark long after the Dursleys all began to snore. Shivering, he rolled over to stare at Dudley's glowing watch face. Ten minutes and then he'd be eleven. Finally. He hoped that the letter-writer sent someone to find him.

Five minutes to go. The roof creaked ominously. Harry hoped that it fell in over the other room onto the bed in which his aunt and uncle slept. Three minutes to go. A sharp slap of water onto the rocks outside. _Crunch. _Harry hoped that the rock wasn't crumbling into the sea. He didn't really fancy drowning on his birthday. One minute to go. Thirty seconds. Twenty. Ten - nine - eight - maybe he could steal Dudley's watch as a present to himself? - three - two - one -

_Boom! _The shack shivered and Harry bolted upright in bed. Dudley squealed and shrank back under his covers. Vernon mumbled incoherently in his sleep. _Boom! _And again. It was the door; Harry could see it shaking. His brain struggled to process what his senses were telling him… Someone was at the door.

At a loss for what to do, Harry said the only thing he could think of.

"Erm…Come in?"


	4. Chapter 4: Magic

- Chapter 4 -

Magic

The door burst open, coming fully off its hinges. A figure, larger than any normal person, blocked the doorway. A burst of lightening from behind the figure outlined shaggy hair and a heavy coat. Dudley squealed, seemingly frozen to his spot on the sofa. Vernon suddenly came skidding out of the bedroom, a shotgun in his hands.

"Whoever the fuck you are, get out! I'm armed, and I _will _shoot you, you mother-fucker!" he cried, waving the gun around the room.

"Hagrid!" A woman's voice shrieked, a Scottish lilt evident. "What _have _you done now? Inside, this instant!" The large figure ducked through the doorway, head downcast.

In the dim light of the room, Harry could just about see the man properly. He had shaggy black hair that hung past his shoulders and merged with his long beard. His large, heavy coat was made from a rough fabric, its shoulders covered in a silky, brownish fur that matched the coat. He wore large boots that looked to be made of snakeskin of some kind. He was twice the size of a normal man, and, as if all of this wasn't strange enough, his left hand clutched a small, pink umbrella.

"They said to come in!" Hagrid protested, now fully through the door, revealing the woman behind him. She was his complete opposite; where Hagrid was untidy and unkempt, she was neatness personified.

She wore a tartan-print skirt and a long sleeved, black jumper, and her feet were encased in a pair of sensible, brown leather ankle boots. Her grey hair was swept up in a rather severe bun, and her eyes were framed by a pair of square glasses.

"And I have no doubt that they meant for you to use the door as a door, rather than knock it from its hinges!" The woman stepped gingerly into the shack, rather as if she feared it would fall down on top of her. She sighed and rolled her eyes before pulling a stick from her sleeve. Unfortunately for the woman and for Hagrid, Petunia chose that moment to appear from the bedroom.

"Don't you point that _thing _at me! I know what it is!" Petunia's voice was low and steady, a direct contrast to her appearance; she wore a rumpled peach nightdress, her hair sticking out in every direction possible, and she positively reeked of sherry.

"Mrs Dursley, I presume?" The woman seemed unruffled by Petunia's display, waving the stick at the door, which righted itself instantly. Harry couldn't help but gasp, causing both strangers to send a puzzled glance at each other. "My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall, and this is my colleague, Rubeus Hagrid. We're from Hogwarts."

"It's real?" Harry's brow furrowed. "So that, with the door, that was real magic? And that stick is a wand?"

"Correct on both counts. Well-reasoned, Mr Potter." The professor smiled tightly at him before turning to his aunt and uncle. "I apologize for the late hour, but Hagrid was obviously quite excited to see your nephew."

Harry's interjection of "Why?" went unnoticed as Vernon was once more waving the gun around.

"My wife told you to get your arses out of here, so damn well do it!" His face was now turning a quite spectacular shade of purple, and the vein on his head had popped up. Harry looked over at it, nervously. Whenever the vein appeared, a beating was sure to follow. "The boy will not be attending your sham of a school." Vernon sneered and waved the gun again. "If you don't leave now, I'll shoot you!"

Hagrid reached forwards and wrenched the gun from Vernon's hands with ease. Professor McGonagall sighed and glowered at his back.

"Really, Hagrid. There are much simpler ways to deal with things. After all, the law is on our side." Despite her chastising words, she flicked her wand the gun vanished.

"Mr and Mrs Dursley, I would suggest you seat yourselves for this may be a long conversation. You don't mind if I make it a tad more comfortable, do you?" All three of the Dursleys were open-mouthed, so she continued. "No? Good." With a few waves of her wand, the fire was lit, the sofa had lengthened – scaring Dudley straight off it – and two crimson armchairs had appeared.

"Please, please, do sit down." The Dursley family huddled closely together on the sofa, and Harry, preferring to sit away from them, settled himself in the armchair closest to the fire. The professor took a seat near to him, whilst Hagrid grinned and squeezed onto the sofa, causing Dudley to very nearly scream in terror.

"Now, look here," Vernon began. "We said when we took him in that we'd have none of this nonsense."

"Mr Dursley," McGonagall interrupted. "I must inform you that you have no choice as to whether you have any of this _nonsense _in your house, as you put it. Frankly, I am disgusted that you believe that you can hide him away from his heritage. It is _law _that he must be schooled in the magical arts, and all you can do is decide upon the manner of this teaching.

"Some parents choose to teach their children themselves; obviously, this option is unworkable for you, as you haven't the knowledge. Some parents hire tutors, which can be very costly and not always successful. Most children are sent to schools like Hogwarts, where they can grow and learn with others in the same situation.

"Mr Potter's name has been down on our register since birth, and this late in the year, I sincerely doubt that any other school would take him, so Hogwarts it must be. Is this understood?"

"Erm… Professor?" Harry had an urge to raise his hand before speaking. "What exactly is my heritage?" McGonagall paled slightly and looked at Hagrid nervously.

"Well, Mr Potter, you see… "

"Harry, you're a wizard!" Hagrid blurted out, clearly angling for a strong reaction. Harry, however, merely blinked at him.

"I know. I read the letter. I wanted to know about my parents… Were they… like me?" He asked hopefully.

"Yes, Mr Potter." McGonagall's hand twitched, as if she'd like to pat his knee. "James and Lily were two of the best and most brave students that Hogwarts has seen in many years. I'm certain that you will follow in their footsteps." Harry nodded absentmindedly.

"O' course you'll fit righ' in." Hagrid smiled broadly. "Especially wi' you bein' so famous an' all." Harry's head jerked up, an inquisitive frown upon his face.

"Famous?" he asked, disbelieving. "_I'm_ famous? Why?"

"Mr Potter, do you know where your scar came from?" McGonagall leaned forward in her seat, as if anticipating Harry's answer. His hand reflexively drifted up to his forehead to rub at the lightening bolt shaped scar that had long resided there.

"Of course. I got it in the car crash."

"Car crash?" McGonagall queried.

"Yeah, when I was a baby. You know, when my parents died." Harry's eyes flicked up at the two silent school teachers. "Didn't I?"

Their faces were near mirrors of each other. Where before there had been hesitant smiles and polite interest there were now ever-darkening scowls and expressions of disgust. Professor McGonagall rose to her feet, her back straightening.

"How dare you!" She roared. "You would keep his entire life from him?" Harry shrank back in his seat a moment, before realising that her steely glare and fiery temper were reserved for his aunt and uncle. Hagrid, meanwhile, prodded the youngest Dursley, who whimpered under his kindly gaze.

"This isn't for you to hear, young' un," he said, very gently. "Off to bed wi' you." Dudley pushed himself upright and scurried towards the bedroom his parents had emerged from.

"Now listen here!" Vernon seemed to have overcome his fear. "You have no right to send _my _son to bed, in _my _household!"

"Silence it, Professor?" Hagrid nodded towards the bedroom and was rewarded with a slight softening of the elder woman's face and a swish of her wand in that direction.

"What have you done to my baby?" wailed Petunia. "You've killed him, I know you have!"

"I have made sure that he cannot hear what is said in this room." Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed at the two Dursleys left. "This is not a conversation for a young child to hear."

"_He_'s here." Petunia petulantly pointed at her nephew.

"I believe your nephew has a name. I also believe, unlike you and your husband, that he has a right to know about his parents and a right to know about himself." McGonagall settled back into her chair. "Unless, Hagrid, you would prefer… ? You knew the Potters better than I."

Hagrid nodded and looked speculatively at Harry, his head cocked to one side. He stayed this way for a moment or two before shaking his shaggy head.

"Can I call ye Harry?" he asked suddenly. "Can't say I like all this Mr Potter lark. That were your Granda'." Harry nodded for him to carry on. "Well, I s'pose it all starts wi' You-Know-Who. Tha's what ev'ryone calls him. Don't much like to say his name much meself, but I'll tell you." He lowered his voice, and leaned forward. "Voldemort." Harry's ears strained to catch the word.

"Why don't people say his name?" Harry's brow was furrowed in thought.

"I… I don't know… Scared, I guess," Hagrid admitted. "He were the most evil wizard there's ever been, an' the things he did… " Hagrid shuddered, slightly. "Terrible things. An' he had his followers too, Death Eaters, they were called, an' they was just as bad. Some of 'em jes' wanted power, an' others was scared. But there were some people, some people who fought against it, like. Your parents fought.

"I 'spose I'd best start at the start. Well, this wizard, You-Know-Who, he went bad. As bad as a wizard can get. Worse even. But people didn't know it, not at firs'. So 'e got powerful, got lots of people listenin' to 'im. An' then people started disappearin'. Jes' a few at firs', like, but enough to get people talkin'. Lots of muggles too, non-wizarding folk, not that anyone at the time noticed tha'.

"An' then the bodies started showin' up. The things they did… 'orrible things, they did. Nasty, cruel things. But nobody knew it was 'im. Not till he wanted 'em to know, see? He planned it.

"Four families, muggle-born kids from Hogwarts, an' their parents. An' anyone else who was there too. An' he put a mark in the sky, over their houses. His mark. The next couple o' years… They were as bad as they ever was.

"People was disappearin', all aroun', an' ye'd have no clue where they'd gone. Never knowin' if you'd ever see 'em again, or what they'd be like if they did turn up. Didn't know who to trust, people were turnin' to him all the time, your best frien', your neighbours…

"Buh' your parents, Lily an' James, they were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever seen. They was Head Boy an' Head Girl at Hogwarts, an' they could'a done anythin' they wanted to. Even You-Know-Who was after 'em. But they wouldn't go near 'im. They was good people.

"An' so they fought, but there wasn't enough people to fight for us. Everythin' was gettin' worse, an' worse, an' nobody could do nothin'. An' then… an' then… " Hagrid trailed off, fishing into one of his many pockets to pull out a large hankie.

"It's okay, Hagrid. They were hard times." McGonagall leaned over to pat him awkwardly on the knee. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came to your parent's house on Halloween night, ten years ago. Nobody knows why or how he knew where they were, but he came. And he murdered them." The professor dabbed at her own eyes with a finger, sniffling a little, as Hagrid finally put his hankie away.

"Where was I?" Harry looked at Hagrid as he asked his question.

"You was there." Hagrid answered. "An' this is the myst'ry o' the thing. He tried to kill you, but he couldn'. No one ever lived once he decided to kill 'em. No one 'cept you. An' he got some o' the best witches and wizards there ever was - the McKinnons, the Bones', the Prewetts… your parents - but you, you was jes' a baby, an' you lived."

Harry gasped as a painful memory flashed through his mind; manic laughter and then a flash of green light… When he looked back up, both Professor McGonagall and Hagrid were watching him sadly.

"I took ye from the house meself, brought you here on Dumbledore's orders… " A spurt of rage came to Harry's mind – they had all known he was here, and they'd left him for the Dursleys to deal with – but his face stayed stony. Hagrid had the gall to look proud at this. Harry made a mental note to exact revenge.

"Bollocks," said Uncle Vernon. Harry twitched at the sound; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were still there. His uncle was glaring at Hagrid, fists clenched, while his aunt seemed to be sinking further and further into the sofa.

"Now you listen and you listen good, boy," he snapped. "Yes, there's something freaky about you but nothing that can't be beaten out of you. Probably could've been beaten out of your mother, too, but once she met your father they were lost to this world. Pair of fucking weirdos. But let's face it, boy, the world's better off without them. They got all they deserved, getting mixed up with all those other freaky people. Me and your Aunt, we always knew they'd come to a sticky end, but that doesn't mean you will. I swear to you, I'll get this crap out of you even if I have to beat you to death to do it, but you won't end up a freak like them, at some crackpot school with crackpot teachers… "

It was at that moment that both Hagrid and McGonagall leapt to their feet, pointing a pink umbrella and a stick respectively at the podgy man. McGonagall seemed to have rose in anger and began to speak.

"Now see here, Mr Dursley!" Her voice was hard. "That is… Oh, HAGRID!" Whilst the Professor had been talking, her colleague had been mumbling under his breath, unnoticed by all but Harry. A puff of pink smoke had spewed from the end of his umbrella.

"WHAT on EARTH was THAT?" She had rounded on Hagrid now.

"Snape taught it to me… " he mumbled sheepishly.

"_Professor_ Snape. And I shall be having words with the pair of you when we return to the school, mark my words!"

"Sorry, Professor." Somehow, possibly contravening the laws of physics, he managed to look up at the older woman. "You won't tell the headmaster will you? After all, it didn't even work... " He trailed off hopefully.

"Fine. I will deal with this myself. Mr and Mrs Dursley, I will take my leave of you, now; You have been informed of the law; there is little else I can do. Will Mr Potter be attending Hogwarts?"

"If I say no, I go to prison?" Vernon sounded resigned and he drooped a little more when the professor nodded. "Then fine. He can go."

"Hey, Harry?" Hagrid hunched down in front of the armchair Harry sat in. "D'ya want me to take ye to Diagon Alley? Get your school stuff?"

"Yeah, thanks." Harry affected a smile. "I'd like that." Hagrid grinned at that while Harry had to fight to keep the bile from rising up in his throat. _How could that oaf think that I would ever want to be around him?_ he thought to himself, bitterly. _After he condemned me to ten years of my cousin's bullying, my Aunt's drunken indifference and my Uncle's violent beatings?_

"That's great then. I'll stay on 'ere for the night, and we'll go in the mornin'." Vernon looked as if he would protest this but stopped as the hand that held Hagrid's umbrella twitched ominously. Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and her forehead furrowed, but it straightened out after a moment.

"Very well, Hagrid. Please remember that you will be expected at the staff meeting tomorrow night. Goodnight, Mr and Mrs Dursley. Mr Potter, I look forward to seeing you on the first." With that, she turned on the spot and disappeared. Harry struggled in order to not appear goggle-eyed at the sight.

His uncle and aunt, however, did not. When Vernon had regained some of his composure, he took his wife's hand and stalked out of the room, not saying a word to neither Harry nor Hagrid.


	5. Chapter 5: Gringotts

- Chapter 5 -

Gringotts

Harry woke early the next morning. He kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, lest he ruin the dream. It had been a brilliant dream. He'd been a wizard, and he'd been going to a school for wizards. And a strange man – Hagrid, he remembered – had told him about his parents.

Suddenly, he heard a tapping noise. Harry's eyes slowly came open, and he let out a yawn as he peered sleepily at the ceiling. It wasn't the ceiling of his cupboard or of his new bedroom. It was all mouldy and had a big hole in it. He looked down at himself, then frowned. It wasn't a blanket over him, it was a big brown coat. It had furry bits. That single fact, even on its own, just proved that life had taken an odd turn.

He looked up to the window, where the noise seemed to be originating from. Harry's jaw very nearly dropped. There was a tawny coloured owl outside the window. And it had a newspaper attached to its leg. As he stared at it in shock, it tapped again, more insistently. He shook the sleep from his head and stumbled over to let the bird into the room.

It flew gracefully over to Hagrid and shook the newspaper free of its leg so that it landed on the big man's face. Then, to Harry's shock and horror, it swooped down onto the coat that had covered Harry and began attacking it.

"No! Stop it!" Harry moaned, trying, and failing, to extricate the coat from the owl's sharp talons. "Hagrid!" He turned to the man, who was, remarkably, still sleeping. "There's an owl and -"

"Jes' pay it for me, tha's a good lad," he grumbled, rolling over on the sofa.

"Erm…" Harry stood sheepishly. "What with?"

"Coat pocket." Harry sighed before wrestling the coat from the owl. Once he had it, he was struck with another problem. The coat was practically all pockets. Seeing no other option or any distinguishing features on any of the pockets, Harry dug in.

The first pocket he tried contained a wide assortment of candied goods; mint humbugs, sherbet lemons, several bags of lemon drops and a single jelly bean. In the next pocket was a ball of twine and a reel of silvery thread. The next pocket contained an assortment of hankies and tissues, the next polished stones. Harry thought he had gotten lucky for a moment when the pocket he was struggling to open jangled. Unfortunately for him, it only contained a wide assortment of keys.

A short while later, Harry came across a handful of strange coins. Sorting them, he realised there were three distinct types; small heptagonal bronze ones, slightly bigger circular silver coins with a circular hole in the middle, and large gold circular ones that were quite thick.

"Gi' him five knuts." Hagrid was lying with one eye open, sleepily watching Harry.

"Knuts?" Harry asked dubiously, prodding the coins in his hand.

"The little bronze ones."

Harry hurriedly counted out five of the strange shaped coins and hastily slipped them into a pouch attached to the leg the owl held out to him. After what could only be described as _glaring _at Harry, it flew back out of the window. Harry watched it 'till it was merely a speck in the sky before turning back to see Hagrid sit up and stretch.

"Best be off now, Harry. Lots ter' do today. We're goin' London an' buyin' all your school stuff." He yawned loudly. "I'll leave a note for your aunt and uncle so they won't miss you."

Harry said nothing to this, although his nose twitched slightly. He ran his fingers over the coins he still held, flipping them over to look for differences. A humbling thought occurred to him.

"Hagrid, I don't have any money…" He looked up at the older man forlornly. "I don't suppose there's any way I can…"

"O' course you have money!" Hagrid smiled lopsidedly. "Did ye think your parents wouldn't leave you anythin'?"

"I thought their house got wrecked?" Harry's brow furrowed a little.

"They didn' keep their gold at home, Harry! That'd be silly. First place we gotta go to is Gringotts, s'a bank for wizards." He appeared to think for a moment. "N'fact, I reckon you've got a helluva lot of money. Your Granda', 'e was mighty rich. Old money, like. Potters was an old family." Harry felt like telling Hagrid that the Potters still existed. After all, what else was he?

"Okay," was all he said. "Cool, I guess. When can we go?"

"Right about now, I think. I gots to visit Gringotts too, Hogwarts business, you see. For Professor Dumbledore." Hagrid's expression changed to one of pride. "He trusts me to do all the important stuff, like. Gettin' things from Gringotts, takin' you out…"

Harry moved towards the door of the shack and tugged it open, revealing a much clearer sky and less choppy waters.

"Shall we go?" he asked, politely. Hagrid happily followed him out, chattering as he did so.

"How did you get here?" Harry interrupted Hagrid's monologue, looking curiously around for another boat.

"I flew, o'course," answered Hagrid.

"Flew?"

"Yeah, but we'll go back in this." Hagrid pointed at the boat Vernon had hired. In the daylight it looked even more frail, and there was a fair amount of water in the bottom of it from the storm of the previous night. "I'm not s'pposed to use magic with you, not yet."

The pair of them settled down in the boat. Harry lifted his feet to the seat next to him to keep the water from soaking through them. Hagrid's boots, however, seemed to be impervious to water.

Hagrid tilted his head, speculatively.

"Seems a shame to row… " He looked quizzically at Harry. "If I was to speed things up a little, you wouldn't tell anyone, would you?"

"Of course not, Hagrid," Harry told him. _Just wait until I find someone to tell, _Harry thought. Hagrid tapped his umbrella on the side of the boat, which proceeded to propel itself speedily through the water.

"Tell me about Gringotts, then?" Harry leant his head on his hand, and did his best to look attentive.

"Well, it's the only wizarding bank, I guess. Run by goblins, o'course."

"Goblins?" Once again, Harry had been shocked beyond belief. "Why goblins?" Harry hadn't known that goblins were real, but it wouldn't do to let Hagrid know how ignorant he truly was. Perhaps he could find some books in Diagon Alley that could help him to learn.

"Ah, they love their gold! So they put lots'a spells an' enchantments. There's 'sposed to be dragons guardin' the high security vaults. An' o'course, it's a great big maze, abou' a mile undergroun'."

Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper. He'd learnt from his Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone when they were reading newspapers. And if you didn't leave people alone, you got a black eye and a back covered in bruises. It was very difficult to stay quiet, though, because Harry had never had so many questions he wished to ask.

"Bloody Ministry o'Magic," Hagrid grumbled as he turned the page. "Messin' everythin' up again."

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry slapped a hand over his mouth and hunched inwards slightly, preparing for the worst. The big man, however, didn't even look up.

"Oh yeah." He said. "Bloody useless, mind, buh' there is one. They wanted the Headmaster for Minister, buh' 'e said 'e'd never leave 'ogwarts. Cornelius Fudge got it, in the end, an' e's more useless than the 'ole Ministry. Sends Dumbledore owls ev'ry mornin' askin' for advice."

"What does the Ministry do?"

"Well, it mostly jes' makes sure tha' the Muggles don' find out 'bout magic. An' it deals with anyone tha' breaks the law. An' it… well it… kinda… runs… everythin'… "

They both felt a slight jolt as the boat bumped gently into the harbour wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and both boy and giant clambered up the stone steps on to the street. As soon as Harry had climbed out of the boat, Hagrid tapped it twice more, and it sped off in the direction they had come from.

"Wouldn't want 'em stuck there now, would we?" Hagrid said cheerfully. Privately, Harry disagreed.

Luckily for the pair, it was still early in the morning and not many people were out walking, for those few that were stopped and stared and pointed at Hagrid.

"He's got to be the biggest man in the world!" One young boy exclaimed to his mother. Harry was slightly discomfited by all of the attention; in his experience, drawing people's eyes led to trouble. When he was eight, a man in a top hat had bowed to him in a shop and shook his hand for no reason he could fathom. His aunt had rushed him out of the shop, and after his uncle found out, he had a headache for three days straight, along with a big lump on his forehead.

Of course, Hagrid didn't help, himself. More than once, he pointed at simple things like a streetlight, or a bin, or a parking meter and loudly told Harry how inventive Muggles were whilst giggling to himself. Harry couldn't help but feel offended; up until the night before, he'd been under the impression that he was a 'Muggle' too. He shook his head and concentrated on catching up with Hagrid. Perhaps if he could get the giant to talk, he'd slow down.

"Hagrid, did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?" Harry knew for certain that Hagrid had most definitely said this, but he'd smiled broadly when mentioning it.

"Well, so they say." Hagrid pulled a face. "Blimey, I'd love to see one!" His face took on a dreamy look and, as Harry had predicted, he slowed down. "Can you imagine havin' a real dragon? It'd be brilliant!"

"You'd actually _want _a pet dragon?" Harry's brow furrowed slightly. "Aren't they really dangerous?"

"Ah, there's a trick to tamin' ev'ry beast, Harry. I've wanted one ever since I was a boy." They walked on in silence, both contemplating dragons. When they reached the train station, Hagrid ushered Harry in.

"So, there's a train to London in… erm… How long, Harry? I don't understand all o' this Muggle rubbish!" Harry squeezed in front of Hagrid, and looked up at the timetable in front of him. He ran his index finger across the days of the week, before reaching a time.

"Five minutes."

Hagrid hurriedly began pawing through his pockets and pulled out some Muggle money. His eyes flicked nervously from Harry to the ticket desk.

"I'll get tickets, shall I?" Harry asked politely. Hagrid quickly handed over the money, obviously glad to be relieved of the task.

People stared more than ever on the train. The carriage they sat in was nearly empty, for which Harry was glad. Hagrid took up nearly three seats and had pulled knitting needles and wool from his pocket.

Harry looked on, more in horror than interest, as Hagrid began to clumsily knit what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent. When Harry finally plucked up the courage to ask what it was, Hagrid informed him that he was knitting a baby blanket. Harry wondered what kind of baby would need a blanket bigger than a house.

"Oooh blimey!" Harry jumped at Hagrid's exclamation. "I forgo' to give you your letter! You won' know what we're to get!" He rummaged through his pockets, and produced a letter almost identical to the one hidden under a loose floorboard in Harry's bedroom at the Dursley's house. The only difference was the address on it.

_Mr H. Potter_

_ The Train To London_

_ Care of Mr. R. Hagrid_

"Hagrid, how does it know where I am?" Harry asked curiously.

"I don' 'spose I know. Trackin' charm o' some sort, I think." He answered, still mumbling under his breath about a 'dropped stitch'.

Harry made a show of opening it, and pretended to look interested in the contents. This time though, after reading through the letters he'd already seen, he noticed that another pair of parchments had appeared behind the first two.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Recommended Reading_

_For Muggle-Born Students;_

_A Brief Introduction to Magical Society - Matilda Hemley_

_A Brief Introduction to Magical Culture - Matilda Hemley_

_A Brief Introduction to Magical Sports - Thomas Hemley_

_A Brief Introduction to Magical Terminolgy - Thomas Hemley_

_My Life as a Muggle-Born Witch - Sophia Grey_

_Modern Magical History - Jeanette Kindell_

_For Parents/Guardians of Muggle-Born Students;_

_Son, You're a Wizard! - Johnathon Murdoch_

_How to Cope With A Magical Child - Jessica Letford_

_Magical Laws Applying to Muggles - Tiberius Ogden_

_So My Child Is Magical, Now What? - Shelley Piper_

Harry read through _this _list with real interest. So there were books that he could read to learn more about the magical world. He very much doubted that the Dursleys would want to read the books for guardians, but he would buy them to read himself. Happy with the list, he flipped to the next page.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Recommended Reading_

_For Pure-Blooded Students;_

_Modern Muggle History - Florence Smythe_

_Muggle Sporting Culture - Jason Folto_

_Muggles and the Magical World - Beranabus Greenby_

Harry's eyebrow quirked as he skimmed both pieces of parchment once more. The term 'Muggle-born' seemed self explanatory; obviously it referred to a wizard born to Muggles. However, he hadn't been born to Muggles, his parents had both been magical, although he did know his mother was a Muggle-born.

The unfamiliar term on the second parchment did confuse him, albeit only momentarily. 'Pure Blooded". Tricky. _Perhaps, _Harry thought, _it would mean wizarding families. _He looked back at the list of books, they confirmed his theory. After all, who else would need to know about Muggles?

But – and here was the crux of Harry's confusion – why should he have both parchments? Surely one could only be Muggle-born or Wizarding-born? He held a piece of parchment in each hand and slowly gazed at each of them in turn. Just as he was about to give up interpreting them, Hagrid came to his rescue.

"What'cha got there, Harry?" Hagrid leaned towards his young charge, eyes quickly skimming over the letters. "Well, 'ent tha' strange? Typical o' your family, always have to be differen'. Your da' was just the same." Harry stayed quiet on this topic; from the little that Hagrid had told him, his dad seemed to have been eerily similar to Dudley. Harry wasn't sure he wanted this view confirmed.

"What does it mean then? You can't be both, can you?"

"O' course you can!" Hagrid cried. "You need the Muggle-born one 'cause you was raised by Muggles, an' you need the pure-blood one 'cause your parents was both wizards!"

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Harry had never been to London before. Harry hadn't been to most places before. Hagrid seemed to have some idea of where he was going, although he quite obviously wasn't used to getting there in the usual ways. He stared at a map for around ten minutes to work out which road they were heading to and tried to walk through the back of several shops.

In fact, Harry realised, he followed wherever his umbrella was pointing. He held it fairly loosely in his left hand and even as Harry watched, it twitched. Hagrid turned until it was once more completely still and continued to walk in that direction. This time, it directed them to women's toilets. Harry sighed to himself. _This might take a while._

As they walked, Harry looked around at the many different shops surrounding them. They passed twelve women's clothing stores and three men's clothing stores that Harry realised might be worth visiting. Harry's eyes were glued to four toy shops, seven specialised music shops, and eight book shops. Then there were the fast food places, and the restaurants that made his mouth water, the bars and clubs that made him wish he were older, and the cinemas that he longed to enter.

"This is it," Hagrid said. "The Leaky Cauldron. Almos' as famous as you!" Harry looked up at the older man in confusion. Hagrid had stopped still in the middle of the road. Several people swore as they swerved around him.

"I don't see…" Then Harry stopped, for he did see the pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry doubted he would have even noticed it. It was actually quite difficult to look directly at it, his eyes kept sliding towards the big book shop and record shop that framed it.

"Is there a spell on it?" Harry asked Hagrid. "To make people not see it?" Hagrid smiled in response.

"Always knew you'd be a grea' wizard, Harry!" He took a deep breath and scratched his head before guiding Harry into the pub.

Harry peered round in disgust. For a famous place, it didn't look very sanitary. It was dark and musty. The bar itself seemed to have a clear inch of grime on it. Harry's head swivelled as he counted no less than eight corners to the room, which somehow still appeared square. Even more oddly, nearly every person in the room was drinking in one of the aforementioned corners, excluding three men propped up against a wall, and two who sat at the bar.

Everybody in the room relaxed a little when they saw Hagrid, most smiling and waving at him. The barman reached for a glass, before speaking.

"You'll be wanting your usual, Hagrid?" he grinned cheerfully, as Hagrid licked his lips. "Or did you notice you've got a kid attached to your coat-tails?"

"Oh, ah, yeah. Can't stop, Tom, m'afraid." He clapped an overly large hand on Harry's shoulder, with enough force that the lad actually struggled to stay standing. "Hogwarts business!"

"Good lord…" The glass slipped from the barman's hands, smashing on the floor. He waved his wand at it absently, and it reformed, coming to rest on the countertop. "It can't be… but… is it… ?" The entire pub had quieted at the smashing glass, and all of the occupants eyes were fixed on Harry, no doubt coming to the same conclusions as the barman. One of the men propped against the wall came to his senses first.

"It's Harry freakin' Potter!" he screeched. And then, all chaos broke loose. Harry shook hands with the barman, the three men against the wall, was pecked on the cheek by eight elderly women (the third actually left spit on his face) and each person seemed in awe of him.

"Thank you so much for what you did, Mr Potter."

"Welcome home, son!"

"We're all pleased you're here again, Mr Potter."

"An honour to meet you!"

"My son won't believe I've actually shaken your hand, Mr Potter!"

"erm… Thank you." Harry replied. "Glad to meet you all, too."

"Delighted to meet you, young sir!" A voice squeaked at his elbow. "Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" The petit man's top hat fell off as he struggled to contain his excitement. "You bowed to me in a shop!"

"That I did, Mr Potter." He was vigorously shaking Harry's hand with two of his own, by this point. "I say, your… aunt? … didn't look too chuffed to see me. Hope you didn't get in any trouble! Wouldn't want to be the cause of you losing your pocket money!" The man giggled, and Harry smiled along with him.

"Of course I didn't, Mr Diggle." Harry lied effortlessly. "My pocket money didn't change in the slightest." Only half a lie. He'd never gotten any pocket money, so they couldn't take it from him. Uncle Vernon, however, could, and _did, _beat him senseless for that infraction. Harry had a strong urge to show Dedalus Diggle exactly what his stupidity had caused.

A pale man approached next, and Harry struggled not to openly stare at the bejewelled purple turban he wore. His left eye twitched fairly often, Harry thought it might be related to a low-hanging feather.

"P'fesser Quirrell!" Hagrid's face lit up as he grasped the man's gloved hand. "'Ere ye' are Harry, P'fesser Quirrell's gonna be one o'your teachers at Hogwarts!"

"P-Potter," the man stammered. "p-pleased to m-meet you." Harry's curiosity was piqued as the man dodged a handshake.

"Likewise. What sort of magic do you teach then, sir?" Harry asked, eager for more information on the Wizarding World.

"D-Defence Against the D-Dark Arts, b-but you'll not b-be needing m-much of m-my help, I'm sure!" He laughed nervously to himself. "I look f-f-f-forward to having you in m-my classes!"

Harry smiled back and chuckled, but inside his mind was working feverishly. His lightening scar was paining him and his hand rubbed against it fruitlessly. Why was the man so very nervous at speaking with him? Sure, he was famous, but nobody else had seemed scared of him.

It wasn't obvious that the Professor was afraid of him, but the signs were there. A flinch at an outstretched hand, and a tremble as their proximity increased. His eyes had flickered nervously around while they spoke.

Harry reached his hand forward once more as Professor Quirrell turned to leave, his brain calculating.

"Please, Professor, you must shake my hand." Harry stepped closer to the man, and was rewarded with the sight of a bead of sweat on the man's brow. "After all, I must show respect for my teachers." Harry smiled in what he hoped was an endearing fashion.

Quirrell slowly, shakily put his gloved hand into Harry's, and shook it very gently. Harry grasped the hand firmly, and squeezed. He allowed himself a smile at the elder man's whitening face, and the swift end to the handshake.

"Come on now, Harry. We got a lo' to be getting' t'day." Hagrid clapped a hand on the young boy's back. Once more, Harry had to grit his teeth and will himself to stay standing; he didn't want to look like a fool in front of everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. Giving a large grin, Hagrid led Harry through the bar and out into a small paved yard that housed several dustbins.

"Hagrid, is Professor Quirrell always so nervous?" Harry looked up, the perfect picture of innocence. Hagrid nodded good naturedly.

"Oh yeah. 'e was brillian' before he wen' ou' into the world. Never seen a scolar like 'im, Quirrell. Buh' word is 'e met some nasty things in Albania."

"Like what?" Harry's manners betrayed little of his excitement; he longed to know what manner of creatures existed in this strange new world.

"Well, erm, werewolves, o' course, but wild ones. Vampires. e's meant to ha' seen a whole colony o' Acromantulas." At Harry's puzzled look, Hagrid expanded. "They're big spiders, can get abou' fifteen feet tall, an' they're smar' too!" Harry's smile was nearly as wide as Hagrid's; he couldn't stop imagining feeding the Dursley's to a giant spider.

"erm… Hagrid?" Harry looked around confusedly, once his mind had returned to the present. "Why are we here? Shouldn't we have gone… somewhere else?" _Anywhere else_, he thought profusely.

"Nah, we're right where we should be." Hagrid chuckled and lifted his pink umbrella once more. "Watch this!" He began counting bricks above the blue dustbin. "Three up… two across… Stan' back, Harry."

Hagrid tapped the brick he'd counted to with the point of his umbrella three times and mumbled the words 'Diagon Alley'. The brick he had touch wriggled to the left, still in the middle of the wall. The bricks all around it started to move, too, until a small hole appeared, through which Harry could see sunlight. The hole got bigger and bigger until it formed a brilliant pure-white arch.

Harry peered around the larger man and noticed words written in a flowing golden script. He edged closer, but the letters all swam away from him.

"What do they say?" Harry asked, annoyed that he couldn't see for himself.

"It's a list o' all o' the magical folk tha've given their lives for the good o' the Wizardin' Worl'." Hagrid offered his umbrella to Harry, who took it confusedly. "Poin' it at the arch, and say 'Family'."

"Family." Harry pointed the umbrella at the wall and repeated the word. "Family."

Instantly, the golden letters rearranged to spell out what seemed like hundreds of paragraphs of information. Harry eagerly read the first few he could see.

_Johnathan Potter ~ 1620 - 1647, killed by a stray curse in the vEnglish Civil War, in defence of a group of seven Muggle children. We honour your name, and may you rest in peace._

_ Elizabeth Black née Hawthorn ~ 1830 - 1893, an integral part in the women's suffragette movement. We honour your name, and may you rest in peace._

The letters rearranged themselves, as Harry finished the first two eulogies, into two familiar names.

_James Potter ~ 1960 - 1981, killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, in defence of his wife and son. We honour your name, and may you rest in peace._

_ Lily Potter née Evans ~ 1960 - 1981, killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in defence of her son. We honour your name, and may you rest in peace._

Harry felt a lump rise in his throat and wiped savagely at his eyes as yet another name appeared. Harry leant closer to the arch, barely believing his eyes at the words there.

_Harry James Potter ~ 1980 - Present, defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, at the cost of his family. We honour your name, and may we be ever in your debt._

These words stayed long enough for Harry's tentative fingers to reach out and caress the golden letters before they suddenly split up and reforming into many, many paragraphs. Harry could almost see the last few words in his mind: _may we be ever in your debt. _A smile rose up to his face. _I think I can manage that…_ he thought to himself.

"Tha's your family, Harry. All o' em, they're all related to you. Not anyone close to you now though, 'cept the Dursley's. Bu' at leas' you got them. They're nice enough, fer Muggles." Harry fought to keep a scowl from appearing on his face. _Nice enough? Sure, they'll be nice enough when I get back there._

Harry turned away from the arch, and looked out through it. When he'd glanced past a few moments ago, it had looked just like a normal London street, but now, as Harry looked more closely, it was easy to tell that this wasn't a normal place.

For starters, the people walking around wore what Harry assumed were robes (a bit like dressing gowns but less fluffy), and some of the older men wore pointed hats. There were smaller stalls lining the road too; Harry could see a woman waving her arms and shouting about her low-priced cauldrons.

"Don't I need one of those?" Harry tipped his head towards the woman. Hagrid grimaced, but nodded in the affirmative.

"Yeh don't want one o' those ones though, Harry. Wouldn' be s'prised if they melted straight through, an' P'fesser Snape wouldn' be too happy abou' tha' now, would 'e?"

Harry mumbled his agreement and began to ogle the wide variety of shops. Straight across from the Leaky Cauldron was a shop called TerrorTours that, according to the advertisements, could have you sent to Egypt for just fifty Galleons. To the left of that was a wizard's clothes shop, but Harry's eye was caught by the ice cream parlour that stood to the right of the wizarding travel agents. It had lots of small tables outside, and people sat at them with some of the largest ice creams Harry had ever seen, most of them in garish colours. One small child had an ice cream that seemed to be emitting sparks. Hagrid, however, refused to let Harry gawp at the shops.

"Come on, then. We gots to get your money 'afore we can get anythin' for yeh." Harry sighed and let himself be tugged along through the people towards the top of the street. Harry's eyes still followed the shops they passed though. On his right, there was a sweet shop that seemed to be brimming with smiling people, and next door to that was a joke shop from which a woman ran out covered in feathers. On his left, they had just passed a shop with lots of brooms in the front window. It was surrounded by a group of older boys who were all nearly salivating over the goods.

"Gringotts," Hagrid said too soon; Harry wanted more time to look at the shops, but even he had to admit that the shops were surpassed by the white marble bank. It was enormous, and Harry was struck with the urge to run his cheek against one of the pillars. Next to its double doors of burnished bronze, stood a…

"IsthataGoblin?" Harry mumbled hastily, not wanting to offend anyone.

"Yeah." Hagrid replied quietly. The goblin was about a head smaller than Harry, he had a very angular face, a dark pointed beard, and his skin had a yellowish pallor. He bowed as they walked in, and Harry bobbed his head automatically in response, gaining him a surprised (but satisfied) grin from the goblin. Now Harry and Hagrid were facing a second set of doors, these again made from bronze, yet slightly smaller. There were words engraved here, though Harry was glad to see they didn't move.

_Beware, stranger, who doth enter here,_

_In knowledge that we do know,_

_Where lie the hearts of men._

_Beware, thee, who would deceive those here,_

_In knowledge that we do know,_

_The face of hearts of men._

_Beware, stranger, who should cheat those here,_

_In knowledge that we do know,_

_The tells of hearts of men._

_Beware, thee, who would to take from here,_

_In knowledge that we do know,_

_The taste of hearts of men._

_Beware, stranger, who should hide from us,_

_In knowledge that we do know,_

_To find the hearts of men._

_Beware, thee, who take no heed from here,_

_In knowledge that we do know,_

_To stop the hearts of men._

"Creeps me out, tha' does." Hagrid confided to Harry, who privately thought the poem was a load of rubbish, before pushing open the doors that led to a vast marble hall.

Harry's eyes shifted around, noticing about a hundred goblins sitting on high stools behind a long counter, all busy, of course. Some were scribbling in large leather bound books, others weighing coins, a small group had eyepieces in and were examining gemstones, and a few more were talking to wizards. All around the room were doors, from which goblins appeared and disappeared, on their own, in groups, in pairs, with wizards, or without. Hagrid propelled Harry towards the counter.

"Mornin'," Hagrid said after they'd waited for a goblin to become free. "We've come to ge' some money out o' Harry Potter's vault." _Vault?_ Harry's mind dizzied with hope of riches.

"Key, sir?" The goblin's voice was quite high pitched, and fairly nasal, he spoke with no clear accent that Harry could distinguish, though he didn't sound as if English was his first language.

"Righ' 'ere." Hagrid dipped his hand into his large pockets, and immediately procured a key. Harry wondered how the giant found it so simple to get what he needed from the pockets, when it had taken him ten minutes to retrieve money that morning. "An' I've got a letter from P'fesser Dumbledore too, abou' You-Know-What in vault seven hundred an' thirteen." He puffed out his chest importantly, though Harry thought he looked like a fool.

The goblin read through the letter carefully and examined the key that Hagrid had produced for Harry's vault. He turned the key over in his hands before sniffing it and stroking it across his cheek.

"This all seems to be in order. I'll just fetch two guides to take you to your vaults, sirs." He made to drift off, but stopped as Hagrid spoke once more.

"Nah, we'll go together. 'E don' know much about Wizardin' money yet, bless 'im!" Harry scowled up at Hagrid. "Well you don', do ya?"

"I shall ask the escorting goblin to explain the monetary, and the banking system in the Wizarding World, Mr Potter." The goblin seemed to take pity on him. "You are not the first to encounter this issue, I assure you." He promptly hopped off his stool, and stepped away to converse with another goblin.

"You'll love it, Harry. Ain't no place safer 'n Gringotts, 'cept perhaps Hogwarts." Hagrid beamed, but the two goblins who had returned seemed to glare at the giant man.

"My colleague will escort you to your vaults," the first goblin said, and made to turn away, but was stopped by Harry's voice.

"I'm sorry, I never asked your name?" he said politely.

"I am Ragnok, and this is Graspard." He seemed slightly disconcerted at the introductions, but Harry shook both of their hands.

"Pleased to meet you both…" Harry was interrupted by Hagrid's rather loud cough and rather painful nudge.

"Got lots to be doin' today," he announced. "Need to be gettin' on, if ya' catch me drift!"

"Of course, sir." Graspard nodded, and inclined his head slightly. "If you'll just follow me?" Hagrid and Harry followed him towards one of the doors leading out of the room.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen, Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"Ooh, I can't tell ya' tha'! It'd be more 'n me job's worth!" Hagrid looked like he was going to say something else, but was stopped by Graspard opening a door for them.

"May I ask which vaults you're to be visiting, sirs?" he asked. Harry noticed his voice was slightly nasal, too, and that he was looking at Harry as he spoke.

"Th' Potter family gol' vault," Hagrid said. "An' vault number seven hundred an' thirteen."

"We shall visit the Potter vault firstly," Graspard announced. "And on the way, I shall explain the monetary system to Mr Potter." Harry nodded in agreement and smiled.

They followed Graspard through the door and down a stone ramp until they reached a set of railway tracks. The goblin whistled, and a largish cart sped towards them. They all got in carefully, before Graspard whistled once more for the cart to move.

"Well, Mr Potter, Wizarding Money is fairly simple. There are Knuts, which are the small bronze coins, there are Sickles, which are larger silver coins, and there are Galleons, which are the largest gold coins. There are twenty nine Knuts to a Sickle, and seventeen Sickles to a Galleon. A Knut is worth about one English penny, a Sickle is worth around thirty pence, and a Galleon is worth about five pounds. Does that make sense?"

Harry nodded, attempting to mentally catalogue the information whilst enjoying his first ever roller-coaster-esque ride. His head seemed to spinning with the many twists and turns they had made, and he was sure that his stomach had dropped out at the first dip in the track. His eyes were glued to the flashes of doors that they sped past - some of gold, others of silver, and one seemed to be made of jewels even.

"Any questions, Mister Potter?" Graspard asked, derailing Harry's train of thought.

"…erm, not really no." Harry admitted, wracking his brains for an intelligent query. "Oh, yes I do! Why did Hagrid say the Potter _Gold _Vault?"

"You have several vaults under the Potter name, Sir." The goblin responded. "They are sorted according to the contents within them. For instance, there is also a book vault, a clothing vault, a jewels vault, and several more! Once you are of age, you are, of course, welcome to come and to discuss your finances with one of the goblins here."

"Thanks," Harry offered with a small smile. "How come I never heard of any of this before though? I mean, if I had a bit of money, why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Mister Potter, Gringotts has owled you a bank statement monthly." Graspard frowned. "Have you not read the reports? They contain the exact amounts of monies, and your investment portfolios. I understand that you are quite young, but it is important that you pay attention to your finances. Where did you think your stipend was coming from?" Harry shook his head resolutely.

"No. I've never got a bank statement from anybody, let alone from an owl. I think I'd remember that. And what are you on about, a stipend? Isn't that like pocket-money?" Harry's frown now appeared, and Graspard's darkened even more.

"Mister Potter, you receive eight Galleons of Muggle money per month, with your bank statement." Harry thought back to the conversions that Graspard had said previously.

"That's like, a tenner a week? Ten pounds per week. Forty a month?" Harry asked. Graspard nodded solemnly. "How long have you been sending this for?"

"Since the death of your parents, although you received only four Galleons per month up until the age of eight. Are you insinuating, Mister Potter that you haven't received this money?" Graspard lent forwards in his seat, tilting his head to the side.

"No, I haven't. How much money has been sent out then, in total?" Harry fought against the urge to bite his lip with worry.

"8 Galleons per month, for three years." Graspard said slowly. "4 Galleons per month for six and a half years. Six hundred Galleons, or three thousand English pounds." He seemed very worried about the sum, making Harry wonder exactly how much money was left.

"That's… that's a lot of money." Harry blinked several times behind his glasses.

"Any money unaccounted for will be investigated. It is not tolerated that we do not know what has happened. I will begin a thorough investigation, Mister Potter. The money will be returned, with interest." Graspard practically snarled.

"Thank you," Harry smiled, reassured by the Goblin's fierce attitude towards his missing money. "Are we slowing down?" Graspard craned his neck to look over the side of the cart and nodded. Harry peered at the tracks, too, only to notice sparks flying off the wheels. However, as Graspard didn't seem to think it was anything out of the ordinary, he resolved not to care.

About a minute after Harry had spoken, the cart came to a halt in front of an imposing, iron clad circle, with the words 'Potter Gold Vault' engraved into the centre of it. Around the words were what looked to be a breathtakingly complex design of spirals, but as Graspard inserted the vault's key Harry realised that the spirals were cogs, and the design was actually a very complex lock.

Harry gasped as before his eyes the door faded to nothing. And then he gasped again as he peered into the space where the door had once been. In one corner was a heap of bronze Knuts, and along that same wall were stacks upon stacks of silver sickles, but the main colour in the room was gold. Nearly everywhere Harry looked he saw golden Galleons in abundance.

"Shit." His jaw was wide open. "How much money do I have here?"

"Just over one and a half billion Galleons, sir." Graspard responded. Harry did some quick multiplication in his head.

"But… but that's seven and a half _billion _pounds." Harry sucked in a deep breath. Apparently the three thousand pounds of missing money wouldn't be too noticed then. "Wow. I'm rich. I'm really, really fucking rich." _I can do anything I want,_ Harry thought happily. _I could get new clothes, games like Dudley… _His imagination happily supplied him with details of things he could buy, until… _But then the Dursleys would know I had money. Shit._ With a sigh, Harry realised that if he didn't want the Dursley's to spend all of his money, he wouldn't be able to spend lots until he could leave their household.

With the help of Hagrid and Graspard, Harry gathered enough money for all of his school supplies into an ever-expanding money pouch, and Graspard promised to exchange some into Muggle money, so he could buy some Muggle clothes, too.

As they sat in the cart on the way to vault seven hundred and thirteen, all were silent. Hagrid was looking decidedly green as they travelled downhill slightly. Harry had a hand permanently on his money bag, as if reassuring himself it was still there. His mind was busy running through the many things he'd buy himself when he grew up.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen wasn't nearly as ornate as Harry's vault had been, in fact, it was downright plain. Graspard quickly opened the vault, (the door disappeared, just like in Harry's vault but much more slowly). Graspard noticed Harry's curiosity with the secrecy and sidled over to him.

"Top security vault, this is," he confessed. "Only Gringotts goblins can open them. If, say, _you_ were to touch it, you'd get sucked in through the door. You'd never get out, either, it's impossible." He smiled grimly.

"Sounds like a clever way to catch thieves," Harry mused. "I suppose you've alarms to tell you when it's opened, too, then? So you can check?"

"Oh no." The goblin's smirk widened, revealing crooked yellow teeth. "We just check for bodies when we open them!" Harry stepped forwards and leaned around Hagrid. Surely there had to be something amazing in there to warrant such high security. _Maybe there's a body in there already! _Harry's overactive imagination, however, was foiled with the sight of a small, grubby package wrapped in brown paper. Harry followed it with his eyes as Hagrid carefully secreted it in one of the many pockets of his coat.

"Back in the cart." Hagrid said gruffly. "Best t' get this o'er wit' 'afore I throw up!" Harry grimaced at the unnecessary information, but did as he was told. It only took a few minutes for them to get back up to the main hall. After Graspard had sorted out the exchange and given Harry the Muggle money, Hagrid led him out onto the front steps of the Wizarding bank.

"So, Harry," he chuckled, having gotten over his travel sickness. "Where d'ya wanna go? Whole world's waitin' for you!" Harry craned his neck, and peered from side to side at the shops he could see.

"That one!" he pointed eagerly. "Let's go there."


	6. Chapter 6: Malfoy

- Chapter 6 -

Malfoy

The shop that Harry had decided to frequent first was a simple one. Harry just had to ask himself what he'd always wanted most; clothes. At school, he'd always had the fun taken out of him for the horrible baggy clothes he'd had to wear. Of course, none of them would ever see him in the clothes he was going to get from Madam Malkin's Robery, but in Harry's mind, it was a figurative two fingers to anyone who'd ever laughed about him.

"Harry?" Hagrid queried as they walked down the steps towards the shop. "I don' suppose you'd min' if I wen' to the Leaky to have a drink, woul' you? I still feel a bi' shaky from tha' cart."

"Sure, Hagrid." Harry made an effort to sound more confident than he felt. "You go ahead. I'll meet you a bit later."

"Good lad," he said, before striding off, leaving Harry alone outside of the robery. Taking a deep breath, Harry entered the store, keeping his back straight and his head up. It turned out he had nothing to fear; Madam Malkin was a short, squat witch who had him pegged as soon as he entered the shop.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, smiling. "You'll be wanting the lot, I suppose?" Harry nodded dumbly while she smiled some more. "I've got another young man being fitted just now. Do come through." With a flick of her wand, a pair of curtains opened, and she gestured Harry through.

The other boy was standing on a footstool while another witch pinned up a set of long black robes. He was very pale and slender, like Harry, but had white blond hair and striking grey eyes. The boy looked over curiously as Harry was ushered onto a footstool next to him.

"Hey," the boy smiled at Harry. "You for Hogwarts, too?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "My first year."

"Mine too." The boy reached out his hand to Harry. "Name's Draco. Draco Malfoy." Harry grasped the hand firmly, hoping with all of his might that he didn't fall off the footstool.

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter." Harry smirked as the other boy froze for a second and seemed to struggle to keep his mouth shut.

"_The _Harry Potter?" Draco grinned then, showing all of his teeth. "Wow." He tipped his head to the right. "I thought you'd be taller. Oh, well. Have you got all of your school things yet?"

"No, this is the first place I've been to, apart from Gringotts and the Leaky Cauldron," Harry confessed. "How about you?" Draco shook his head in response.

"I've not got much yet," he admitted. "But mother's across the road getting me some quills and parchment. She's to meet me here after she's gotten them. Where are you going next?"

"I don't really know. I guess I should wait for Hagrid to come back." At Draco's puzzled look, he explained. "He's the gamekeeper at Hogwarts."

"Oh, do you know him very well?" Draco asked. "Did you live at Hogwarts or something?"

"No, and no. I only met him today. He acts as if I'm stupid." Harry scowled. "And he keeps acting like he's my best friend or something."

"Why don't you get rid of him then?" Now it was Harry's turn to look confused. "Come shopping with me and my family. I'm sure they won't mind," Draco offered with a nonchalant air.

"Okay." Harry smiled back at the other boy. "Then…"

"You're both done, boys!" Madam Malkin told them. Harry and Draco looked around in surprise, noting the piles of clothes at their feet. "You can pay at the counter, in the front of the shop. Mr. Malfoy, I believe your parents are waiting there for you."

Harry picked up his clothes and followed the woman into the front of the shop, Draco close behind. Standing fairly close to the counter were a man and a woman that Harry assumed to be Draco's parents, as they all looked very alike.

Harry's eyes flicked from Draco to his parents, admiring the similarities; all three of them were very pale with white blond hair. The woman was very sleight, like her son, but the man seemed a bit bulkier, like he had lots of muscles. They all had grey eyes too, although Draco's mother's seemed to be slightly bluer than those of her son and husband. The man had a cane in his hand, but he didn't seem to be leaning on it much. They both smiled at Draco as he brushed past them to place his things on the counter.

"Mother, father, I'd like for you to meet my new friend, Harry Potter. Harry, these are my parents." Neither of the Malfoy's showed any sign that they recognised Harry's name other than a slight widening of the eyes.

"Mr. Potter." The man held his hand out to Harry, who shook it firmly.

"Mr. Malfoy." Harry smiled at them both pleasantly, although his mind was still slightly puzzled over the way that Draco had introduced him. He'd put a barely noticeable emphasis on Harry's name, which was understandable, but he'd said _friend _as well. _I'll have to keep an eye on him, _Harry thought.

"Please, call me Lucius, Mr. Potter. This is my wife, Narcissa," Lucius propelled his wife forwards as he said her name. She appeared completely unruffled, and delicately shook Harry's hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter."

"Call me Harry." Harry smiled at them both.

"Harry it is, then," Lucius nodded in agreement. Both Draco and Harry quickly paid for their things, (seventeen Galleons, nine sickles and four knuts each), and the four exited the shop.

"Harry, would you - and whoever you're with - care to shop with us? I'm sure Draco would enjoy a companion more his age…" Lucius opened his arm in invitation, while Draco shot Harry a look that screamed 'I told you so'.

"erm… Yeah, I'd love to. I should find Hagrid and tell him I'll shop with you instead, though, so he's not waiting around for me."

"Rubeus Hagrid?" Harry almost thought he saw a look of distaste flicker across Lucius's face when he nodded, but it was gone too fast for Harry to be able to tell. "Oh, that shouldn't be a problem. He'll know me, I'm a governor at Hogwarts." Lucius seemed to stand slightly taller as he said the last few words.

"Lucius, dear, why don't you go with Harry to meet Hagrid, and I and Draco will meet you in Flourish and Blotts? The boys will need the same books; we can just pick up two of each." Narcissa suggested.

"Brilliant idea, Cissy," Lucius smiled in the same way that Draco had earlier, before kissing her cheek. "So, Harry, where are we off to meet Hagrid?"

"I think he said he'd be in the Leaky Cauldron." Harry offered.

"Brilliant, we can all walk in that direction together, then." As they walked down the road, Draco started to tell Harry about the house system at Hogwarts.

"Basically," he said, getting quite excited, "you put this old hat on, and it sorts you into a house based on your personality. There's Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Ravenclaw is for the brainy people, Gryffindor is for the 'brave' people, but really they mean impulsive people, Hufflepuff is for people who don't fit in anywhere else, and Slytherin is for people with ambition and cunning. I hope I'm going to Slytherin, mother and father were in Slytherin too. Where do you want to go?" Harry thought hard for a minute.

"Well, I wouldn't want to go to Hufflepuff, 'cause that'd mean you're pretty useless, right?" Draco nodded. "And I'm not impulsive, so not Gryffindor. Ravenclaw doesn't sound bad, but I don't think I'm that clever, so I guess I want to be in Slytherin." Harry smiled suddenly. "Hey, wouldn't it be great if we were in the same house?" Draco nodded again, before his mother pulled him off towards a book shop, leaving Harry walking alone with Lucius.

"What do you want to do when you grow up, Harry?" Lucius asked, after a moment of silence.

"I don't really know. I'm not sure what sorts of jobs you have here, but I suppose I want to be something important, if you know what I mean?" Harry looked up at the older man, confusedly.

"I think I do, Harry." Lucius grinned. "And for what it's worth, I think you'd do well in Slytherin." And with that almost-compliment, Harry and Lucius entered the Leaky Cauldron.

It was easy to see Hagrid, he was the only one sitting in the middle of the room, and due to his size, he was rather hard to miss. There was also the added bonus that he was quite drunk and singing. Harry shuddered in distaste. Lucius, who'd been behind him, noticed the shudder and smirked.

"…an' Odo th' hero, they bore 'im back 'ome, teh th' place tha' 'e'd kn'wn as a laaaaaad!" Hagrid sung. He seemed oblivious to the fact that most of the pub were laughing at him. Lucius walked up and stood in front of him, with a protective arm around Harry.

"Rubeus!" he snapped, drawing himself up to his full, and imposing, height. "You are drunk, man! I fail to see how this is looking after _our saviour, Harry Potter._"

"Ahhh… ther' y'are Harry! Don'cha wanna' drink wi' me?"

"Hagrid!" Lucius bellowed, his voice so cold that Harry almost thought the room temperature had dropped. "You will take yourself back to Hogwarts, and you shall tell the Headmaster exactly what has happened today." Lucius had dropped his voice, so that Hagrid was leaning forwards, trying to catch what the blond man was saying. "I will take Harry to get his school things with my son, and I _will _be writing to the headmaster to tell him what a _disgrace _you are."

Hagrid stared at him doe eyed for about a minute before nodding his head dumbly. Lucius motioned to two men who had just walked into the bar.

"You two will take his arm and side-along-apparate him to Hogwarts?" One man raised an eyebrow, before Lucius pulled a pair of Galleons from a pouch on his waist. "Take him _right now._" Lucius warned, before gesturing for Harry to leave the pub the same way they had entered a few moments previously.

They walked to the book shop in silence, both contemplating what had just happened. Lucius pulled Harry aside as they neared the shop, however, and knelt on one knee so he was face to face with Harry.

"Harry, I'm very sorry that you had to see that; both Hagrid's drunkenness and my temper. It hasn't been a pleasant day for you, has it?"

"Oh no, Mr Malfoy," Harry interrupted. "In all honesty, this is the best birthday I've ever had. It's the best day ever!" Mr Malfoy frowned slightly, but got up off his knee and said only one thing.

"It's Lucius, Harry." Together, they entered the shop and set off on a mission to find Draco and Narcissa. Lucius, being much taller than Harry, found them first, in a small section just for Hogwarts books. Narcissa had her wand out and had two baskets floating next to her at waist height. She and Draco were pulling out two of each book, and putting one into each basket.

"There you two are!" Narcissa's eyes narrowed. "Something happened, why aren't you both smiling?" Lucius smiled tightly at her.

"Harry, Draco, will you two check the books against your letters? I need to have a word with my wife." Draco looked at Harry curiously, but obligingly grabbed onto one of the baskets as his parents disappeared to another part of the shop. As soon as they were out of earshot he stopped checking books, and smiled at Harry.

"So, what happened? Why is my father acting so oddly?" he asked eagerly.

"Well, Hagrid was a bit drunk, and he got a bit annoyed at him. Nothing much really... Why are you wincing?"

"Mother might just kill him." Draco groaned slightly. "He's not meant to get mad while we're out, I don't really know why, though." He sighed. "Never mind, it's his problem now. You gonna check those books then?"

Harry grinned and pulled out his letter, still in its envelope. He counted the books in the basket, and got the nine on his normal letter, and the three on the pure-blooded list. He pulled out his Muggle-born list of books and showed it to Draco.

"You're a Muggle-born?" he asked, brow furrowed as he looked at the first page. "_And _a pure-blood?" His face relaxed, and he began to laugh. "Oh, trust you! The great Harry Potter has to be different!" Harry laughed with him and between them they found the extra books that Harry needed.

When Lucius and Narcissa returned, both boys were still sniggering. The parents shared a look that was indulgent on one side and slightly calculating on the other.

"Come on then darlings, let's go pay for all of this!" Narcissa guided the boys to the tills, shooting her husband a warning glare as they walked. They paid for the books, and were herded on to the next shop; Ollivanders.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they entered. The shop was miniature, and completely covered in dust. Harry looked on in awe at the many boxes piled haphazardly around the room. Draco seemed to be in the same state, if a little less.

"You want a wand." Harry jumped at the unexpected voice. It sounded slightly rough, and held an incredulous tone of voice.

"Well we are in a wand shop." Draco drawled from Harry's left. Harry barely noticed; his eyes were fixed on the old man who had appeared from nowhere. He wore a yellowing shirt with a bow tie, and his brown hair was speckled with grey. His eyes were wide, and they almost shone in the dim room. He cocked his head towards Lucius.

"Elm, eighteen inches, dragon heartstring, likes curses, right?" Lucius nodded slowly, as he turned to Narcissa. "Oak, ten and three quarter inches, unicorn hair, very good for charms, I should think?" Narcissa nodded too. "And two nothings! You want wands, for you both?" Harry and Draco nodded, flicking nervous glances at each other.

"You first, blondie!" With that, Ollivander span on his heel and threw a box at Draco, who fumbled, but caught it. "Willow, twelve inches, dragon heartstring. Give it a wave!" Draco waved it half heartedly, but it was taken from his hand after a single moment. "Oh no no no, that's all wrong. Try this." He placed a wand, minus box in Draco's hand. "Mahogany, eleven and a quarter inches, unicorn hair." This time, when Draco waved it, a pile of wands tipped over. It was also snatched back quickly. "Close but no cigar…" Ollivander murmured. "Aha, this one next!" When Draco waved it this time a stream of water appeared, and completely soaked Ollivander, who merely smiled dazedly. "Hawthorn, ten inches, unicorn hair. Perfect."

Draco grinned, and waved it again, his father nimbly dodging the ensuing stream of water with an amused grin. He turned to do the same to his mother, but was stopped at her raised eyebrow. Meanwhile, Ollivander was staring at Harry.

"Merlin." He breathed. "Harry Potter. I remember your parents, I sold them their wands, you know. Lily's preferred charms, and James's liked transfiguration. Very powerful wands, both of them. But not as powerful as the one that did this." He reached a finger forwards to touch Harry's scar, eyes wide in wonderment. Harry awkwardly leaned backwards and was grateful when Lucius's hand on his shoulder pulled him back a few feet.

"Can you not see he doesn't want you to touch it, man?" Lucius told Ollivander hotly, earning himself yet another glare from Narcissa. Ollivander, however, obligingly backed away. Harry shot Lucius a thankful smile.

"Wands then. Wands, wands, wands!" Ollivander hissed to himself. "Oooh, what about this one then! Willow, fourteen inches, dragon heartstring." He threw a box in Harry's direction, which was deftly caught but it was snatched out of his hand before he'd had a chance to even look at it. "No. Bad wand. Oak, twelve and a half inches, core of unicorn hair." He placed it in Harry's hand, leaned back, looked at the wand once more, then pulled it away from the boy. "No."

Twenty minutes later, Harry had tried thirteen more wands, caused three mini-avalanches, and shocked Ollivander twice. Even the crazy wand maker seemed to be running out of ideas.

"I don't…" He mumbled to himself. "Unless…" His head spun round to look at Harry once more. "No, no, no, it can't be! But it's perfect!" He slapped his palm against his forehead and disappeared through a door that Harry assumed led to another storeroom. He appeared moments later with a box laid across his two palms, which shook slightly. Both of Ollivander's eyes were focused on the box, which he handed to Harry almost reluctantly.

This time, when Harry waved the wand, Ollivander didn't have to dive out of the way of tumbling wands, he just watched in awe at the silver and green sparks that tumbled from the end of Harry's wand.

"They're beautiful, Harry," Narcissa said softly, but her praise went unheeded as Ollivander chose to speak over her.

"Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches." He crept towards Harry once more, and Harry was rather disconcerted by the way the man was staring at him. "How curious, how very, very curious," he murmured.

"What's curious?" Harry asked. "What's wrong?"

"I remember every wand that I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Fifty seven years worth of wands, in fact. The phoenix who gave the tail feather that's in your wand gave one other - only one other. It is very curious that this should be your wand, when it's brother, that of the other phoenix feather, gave you that scar." Once more, he reached out, to touch Harry's forehead, but was stopped by a silvery barrier around Harry.

"Interesting," he cooed. "So, so powerful! And instinctive too! I think we can expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, You-Know-Who did great things, too, terrible things, but great all the same."

"Yes, if great equals killing my parents. I'd like to pay for my wand now, Mr. Ollivander." Harry picked his chin up. "I daresay we can do without your babbling."

As Draco and Harry paid for their wands, (15 Galleons, and 17 Galleons respectively), Harry could have sworn he heard Lucius whisper to his wife.

"Narcissa," He'd mumbled. "I think I like him."

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Harry laid back on his bed and stared at the still-unfamiliar ceiling. It had been a good day for Harry. A brilliant day, if he were honest with himself. He had stayed with the Malfoy family for nearly the whole day. Narcissa in particular had helped him to get school things. She seemed more focused on the task than Lucius and had made sure that he had gotten several items that weren't on the Hogwarts list.

The trunk, satchel, and wand-holster seemed to be fairly innocuous purchases, Harry could easily see how useful they would be. However, Narcissa had 'strongly suggested' buying several other items that he couldn't help but wonder at, for one had been the monogrammed handkerchiefs and matching scarf. Handkerchiefs were obsolete, and why would a scarf need to be monogrammed?

Harry realised now that he had merely bought basically everything that Narcissa had suggested, completely forgetting about his resolve to get some new Muggle clothes. He sighed as he realised that he would have to sneak out to get new clothes - and he knew it would be even harder to sneak them into the house.

The Malfoys had been very good to Harry that day. They'd taken him out to dinner at an expensive restaurant, and Lucius wouldn't hear of Harry paying for his share. And when Harry had mentioned that he should go to the train station so he could get home, Lucius had graciously offered to Apparate him there. Apparation turned out to be sort of like teleportation, except for Harry getting bit of a sickly feeling afterwards. He'd cast a spell on Harry's trunk, too, making it stay pocket sized until he took it out and placed it on the floor.

A soft hoot in the corner alerted him to his newfound pet, of sorts. The large snowy owl had been a gift from the Malfoy family for his birthday, although Lucius had admitted that it was partly so that he and Draco could write to each other for the remainder of the summer. Harry grinned at the recollection. Lucius obviously wanted for his son to be friends with someone famous, and who was Harry to deny him that?

After Harry had fed the bird, he snagged a book from his trunk and lay down on the bed. _A History of Magic, _by Bathilda Bagshot. Surely magical history would make for an interesting bed-time read?

Thirty minutes later, Harry had given up on the book, but had found a name for his owl; Hedwig. He stifled a yawn and pulled up the bed sheets over his still-clothed body.

"G'night, Hedwig," he mumbled sleepily. "See you tomorrow."

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

"Where is he?" Harry groaned and rolled over at the roar. "Where is that little shit? I'm going to kill him!" The door to his room swung open and knocked over a teetering pile of Dudley's broken toys. Harry's eyes blinked open.

"Uncle Vernon?" He reached for the glasses that lay on the side table, but was instead greeted with the fuzzy blob in the doorway entering the room and taking a firm hold of his neck. Harry's hands automatically reached up to try to pry off those of his Uncles, gasping and stuttering he managed to loosen the grip enough for him to be able to breathe.

"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT YOU STUPID FREAK!" Vernon screamed at Harry. "NOW I'LL HAVE TO GET RID OF THE DAMN THING!" Harry, disorientated from a combination of his rude awakening, lack of oxygen and his inability to see without glasses, stared at him nonplussed.

"The owl was a gift, Uncle. I'll get rid of it…" Words failed Harry as his Uncle suddenly dropped him back onto the bed. He scrabbled at his bedside cabinet for his glasses, but was foiled by Vernon pulling him by the arm out of the room. He was half dragged and half stumbled down the stairs into the living room.

"I DON'T MEAN THE OWL! I MEAN THE RUDDY TAIL!" Vernon screeched, and as he let go of Harry he turned, showing a creeping, curly-pink tail.

Harry collapsed into a heap on the floor when Vernon let go of his arm. Automatically, he curled into the foetal position where he lay, his hands and arms covering his head and face. He heard the first blow a moment before he felt it. The sharp cracking of one of his ribs and then the burning pain that always came after a broken bone.

"See me teach the bastard a lesson, Dudley?" The harsh snarl came from his uncle. "You try. Go on. Hit him." A softer blow to the side of his head, but Harry could still feel the pain, and knew there would be bruising. A booted foot kicked at his left temple next. _Vernon, _Harry thought, followed by _'black eye'._

"I'm sorry!" Harry screamed out. "I'm sorry, I'll fix it, I'll get rid of it, I promise!" Thump, another kick, this time across his back. Thump, again. "I'm sorry, so sorry, I'll do anything!"

"Little brat." Petunia's high pitched nasal voice cut through the haze of pain. "Don't you get blood on my carpet? You hear me?" A gulping sound and then a glass thrown at him. He could smell sherry; she'd been drinking already. A piece of glass dug into his neck, Harry screamed shrilly.

"SHUT UP YOU STUPID FREAK! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" Vernon again, voice hoarse. Thump. Thump. Thump. A kick to the head. Thump. Thump. Thump. Some time later, another voice pierced the hazy mist.

"Daddy, I want to go to McDonalds, can we go to McDonalds?" A petulant whine from Harry's cousin.

"Of course, Dudley." _Always gets what he wants, _Harry thought bitterly, but he didn't begrudge this fact now. If he was lucky, it might save Vernon from beating him more. Vernon's voice was calm now, all of his temper spent bruising Harry. He leant down to growl at the small boy curled on the floor. "Clean it up, boy, and get to your room. I don't want to see you again. Ever," he spat, and Harry felt the warm globule of saliva hit the back of his neck and run slowly down onto the carpet beneath him.

When the Dursleys left a few minutes later, Harry began his long crawl upstairs. The glass left on the floor from his aunt's sherry glass dug into his hands and knees, but he couldn't see to pull any of it out or to avoid it without his glasses. After a time, Harry reached the staircase. Slowly, carefully, he pulled himself to his feet and, using the banister as a crutch, he hobbled upstairs gingerly. Once his glasses were secure on his face, he extracted a rusty pair of tweezers from underneath his pillow and began to systematically pull out all of the glass that he could.

Luckily, most of the shards were still sticking out, but there were several on Harry's feet, and one on his right hand that refused to come out. He sighed, but after a glance at his battered watch realised a full hour had passed.

When the Dursleys came home three hours later, the only trace of the attack was a faint smell of bleach.


	7. Chapter 7: Consequences

- Chapter 7 -

Consequences

Before Harry had had time to realise it, it was the last day of August. He had spent most of the holiday in relative peace, making sure to avoid his Uncle Vernon. Harry had read through every one of the books he had bought in Diagon Alley, and all, apart from the History of Magic book, were very interesting. Harry had also managed to sneak out fairly often, and had, in fact, gained a very slight tan. It had been a good holiday, having no contact with the Dursleys, particularly the volatile Vernon. However, looking at the ticket in his hand, Harry knew he was going to have to bite the bullet and talk to the man. The train ticket had appeared in the letter after Harry had brought all of his school things.

When Harry had first seen it, he hadn't believed that it was real; it was surely impossible for there to be a platform nine and three quarters, but when he had owled Draco with the conundrum, Draco had informed him that the platform was real and that every Hogwarts student boarded the same train. The only problem was that the train left from King's Cross Station - in London.

Breathing deeply, Harry headed downstairs. He knew that his aunt had taken his cousin out to her friend's house, but he had heard Vernon refuse to go as 'the woman only serves salads'. Harry could picture how green Dudley's face must have been; Dudley had never, in living memory, eaten anything remotely healthy. Harry found his uncle in the sitting room watching snooker on the television.

Harry cleared his throat to let his uncle know he was there, but the large man didn't even turn his head to acknowledge the presence of his nephew. Harry took this lack of response to be a good thing, at least he hadn't been shouted at or been beaten. Yet.

"Erm - Uncle Vernon?" He began hesitantly.

"What is it, boy?" The man growled. Harry gulped and plucked up his courage once more.

"I umm… need to be at King's Cross tomorrow so I can get to school." Uncle Vernon grunted noncommittally. "Would it be all right if you gave me a lift? _Grunt._ Harry supposed that meant yes. "Thank you."

"Funny way to get to a magic school," Vernon smirked. "Can't you go by broomstick or magic carpet? Ooh, better yet, your bloody owl could carry you." Harry froze, unsure what to say. "Where is the damn place, anyway?"

"I umm… I don't know." Harry blinked in surprise at the revelation, whilst his uncle guffawed. Harry raised his ticket in his hand to eye level, and read through it again. "My ticket just says that it's to Hogwarts, and that it's at eleven."

The ticket also said that the train left from Platform nine and three-quarters, but Harry decided not to mention that fact to his uncle. If Harry had wondered about it, then Vernon surely would. When nothing else was said, Harry quietly headed back upstairs to pack his things.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Harry woke at five the next morning thanks to Draco's eagle owl tapping on his window. Harry swung his tired legs out of bed and rose to let him into the room. He flew in gracefully and perched on the end of Harry's bed, affectionately nipping at his finger as he untied a note from the bird's right leg. He unrolled it and read it to himself slowly.

_Harry,_

_ I didn't think you'd be able to sleep this morning, so I decided to write before I see you later today. I won't be arriving until just before eleven, so save me a seat in your carriage if you're there before me. If not, I'll save one for you. I can't wait until we get there. I hope we're in the same House together. _

_ Father says that if the Muggles won't bring you, he can stop by and apparate you to the station, but it will be fairly late. He just read this over my shoulder and told me to tell you that he thinks we'll both be sorted into Slytherin. Personally, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he's right._

_ Mother sends her love (eww) and wants me to remind you to pack absolutely everything you own into the trunk. She also says to dress in Muggle clothes for the train, as we can change into our uniforms when we're on our way there._

_See you later,_

_Draco M._

Harry smiled to himself. He had realised through the course of their letters that Draco was rather insecure, no matter how much he tried to hide it. His early morning letter wasn't to reassure Harry's nerves, but to assuage Draco's own. Reading between the lines, Harry got the impression that Draco had woken his entire family with his worries.

Although, on second thoughts, it was nice to know that he'd know at least one person on the train. One person that he knew he could get along with. One person who wanted to be around him. One person more than he'd had for most of his life. Harry sighed, and his face twisted into a bitter frown, but he gave himself only a moment to reflect on the vagaries of life.

Looking over at the bedside table, Harry checked the watch, seeing it was now nearly half past five_._ He would write Draco a letter and then get dressed before checking his trunk, as he had promised. He pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill and a pot of ink before sitting down on the floor to write his letter.

_Draco,_

_ Thanks very much for the wake up call. Believe it or not, I _could _sleep. Give your father my gratitude, but my uncle is bringing me to London, so I won't need his help. Tell your mother that I have packed and that although absolutely everything has been checked and rechecked at least seventeen times already, that yes, I will check once more._

_ With any luck, I will be on the train before you, so I'll be sure to save you a seat with me. If not, we'll just have to 'convince' someone else to move, I'm sure those big guys you mentioned, Vincent and Gregory, would come in useful for that._

_ I know it's terrible of me to ask, but I just have to know; are you really coming to the station in Muggle clothes? I can't really imagine you in jeans or a t-shirt and trainers, for some reason._

_ Don't bother replying to this, I'll already be gone by the time your owl gets here. I suppose I'll just have to see what clothes you're wearing on the train later._

_Talk soon,_

_Harry._

Harry turned to the eagle owl that still sat on the end of his bed and tied the parchment securely to its leg. He pulled an old biscuit from the top of his dressing table and fed it to the bird, who cooed in delight.

"Take this to your master, okay, Stymie?" Harry had inwardly snorted when Draco had first told him the name of the bird; Stymphalia, after the Stymphalian birds that Heracles had had to slay in the ancient Greek poem of the labours of Heracles. Harry had thought the name very fanciful, after all, Stymphalia didn't eat people, and he didn't have a bronze beak either. Stymie cawed gently before gracefully flying out of the still-open window.

Harry pulled out his Hogwarts letter once more and checked the list against the contents of his trunk, pulling everything out and repacking it as he did so. The trunk, thanks to the spell work of Narcissa, was larger on the inside than it was on the outside, and thanks to the spell work of Lucius, it would only open at his touch. He saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage and that she had water and several biscuits that would see her through the long journey.

Harry carefully pulled out the new clothes he had left in his chest of drawers for today. New underwear and socks, soft, dark-grey jeans and a black polo shirt. He put them on, inwardly marvelling at the way they clung to his figure, unlike Dudley's cast offs, which he usually wore. Harry ran a hand down the soft fabric of the shirt, and then sighed in defeat. Vernon would know something was up if he wore all new clothes, so time for the disguise; a pair of really, really ratty trainers with a hole in the bottom, and an overly large jumper in an off-green colour. He stuffed his new black 'Vans' boat shoes, and an emerald green cardigan that a sales woman said 'matched his eyes perfectly' into his school satchel, and then placed it at the top of his trunk once more.

Harry checked his watch, which was carefully hidden under the long sleeves of the jumper; half six. He jumped as the boiler in the cupboard next to his room clicked and hummed loudly, calming when he realised it was just Vernon taking a shower. Harry had been careful to take one late last night, when all of the Dursleys were in bed.

Thirty minutes later, Harry was sitting in the back of Vernon's car on the way to London. Vernon had barely said three words to Harry that morning. In fact, as Harry reflected, it had been exactly three words.

"In the car."

They arrived at King's Cross station at ten fifteen, having driven for hours in silence. Harry had been itching to speak or to move around, even just to reread one of his school books, but he didn't dare. With any luck, Vernon's morning daze would last until after Harry got out of the car.

"You know what, boy?" Vernon said unexpectedly, as they pulled into the parking lot. "I'm not going to see you for months, am I?"

"No Uncle Vernon," Harry answered warily as Vernon parked the car in an empty space.

"I think I should give you something to remind you of me, boy." He said, turning around. Harry jerked away quickly, but not quick enough. Vernon's fist hit cleanly across Harry's nose. Harry heard, rather than felt it crack, as blood began to stream down his face. Vernon just smiled cruelly. "Have a good time at school, boy. Try not to come back."

Harry fumbled for the door handle, and leapt out of the car as soon as he could, barely having the presence of mind to grab his trunk before Vernon drove off. He lugged it onto a trolley, and sat on the edge of it as he stemmed his bleeding nose with the old jumper.

Once the bleeding had stopped, Harry exchanged the old jumper and trainers for his new clothes. He edged into the station carefully keeping his head down and the blood on his face out of sight until he could get to a bathroom to wipe it off.

Once his face was clean of blood, Harry headed in the direction of platforms nine and ten, figuring that nine and three quarters would be somewhere in between. He stood, looking fruitlessly from one platform to the next, unwilling to ask for help.

People all around him were rushing around, getting on and off trains, and dragging luggage behind them. He could hear snippets of conversations passing him by.

" -darling, come on, we need to go and see-"

"-mind where you're going!"

"Fred, George, behave! Don't act up around the Muggles!"

Harry's eyes flicked almost imperceptibly at the word. It had come from a plump, ginger haired woman surrounded by a gaggle of children. That raggedy family of redheads were wizards. Draco and his parents had mentioned Muggles. Harry's nose wrinkled slightly at the state the family was in. They all wore slightly ill fitting or worn out clothes. All of the wizards he had seen in Diagon Alley were well dressed, like the Malfoy family, so why weren't these?

_Perhaps, _Harry thought to himself, _they know where platform nine and three quarters is!_ He shook his head, his long, dark fringe falling over his eyes. Through his hair Harry surreptitiously watched the tallest (and best dressed) walk at the wall between platforms nine and ten.

Harry very nearly gaped as they – first the man's luggage trolley and then the man – disappeared through the wall. Next, the two twins ran at the wall and were swallowed up by it. As the eldest man walked nonchalantly through, Harry carefully watched his mouth; it didn't move. _You must just be able to walk through, _thought Harry.

With his newfound knowledge in mind, Harry picked his head up and threw his shoulders back, pushing his trolley at the stretch of wall. The youngest redheaded boy skidded to a halt a few feet from Harry, who merely looked disdainfully at him as he passed through the wall, closing his eyes at the last moment.

When he opened them again, he saw a bright red train waiting at the platform. The people milling around looked the same as those who had been in Diagon Alley; some wore robes and others a very odd assortment of Muggle clothes. However, unlike in Diagon Alley, there were a lot more young Witches and Wizards.

Harry's eyes flicked around, desperately taking in everything he could. He glanced upwards and read a sign that said _Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock. _Behind him, where he had just come from, was a wrought iron archway with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters _on it.

Pushing his trolley as hard as he could, Harry made his way through the crowd. Looking into the windows of the train, he could see that most of the first few carriages were full of older students already, who seemed to know each other well. As he walked, he caught little scraps of conversation.

A round faced boy about his age looked despairingly at an older woman.

"Oh Gran, I've lost my toad again! Have you seen where he went?"

A mother, sobbing over her son, arms wrapped around him. An older version of the boy stood to one side rolling his eyes.

"Marcus, dear! I will miss you so much, and your father will, too. Stay safe, promise me?"

Two girls stood together, holding hands a little nervously. The smaller one was crying.

"It'll be alright, Astoria," the bigger girl was saying consolingly. "You'll be here in a couple of years, too. You'll see, it won't be long! And I'll be back for Christmas, too. I promise."

Harry ducked his way through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He ran inside and put Hedwig down first, before asking a porter to help him lift his trunk in. The man waved his wand once and all of Harry's luggage appeared in the carriage. Harry thanked him before entering again, and he sat down comfortably.

He rummaged in his trunk for a moment or two, pulling out some treats for Hedwig and feeding them to her while he waited for Draco to arrive. As it was, he was only waiting for a few minutes before Draco's blond hair flashed at the door to the carriage. The boys grinned at each other as Draco entered, closely followed by his father floating a trunk.

"Harry, so nice to see you again," Lucius patted Harry on the shoulder and bestowed him with a truly charming smile. "I'll let you two get on, I hope you have at least one conversation topic left after the amount you owled this summer." Harry just smiled and nodded his head along with Draco. "Have a good year, both of you. And Draco? Please owl at _least _once a week, or your mother will make me come to the school to make sure you're okay."

"Of course I will, father." Draco said, rolling his eyes. "I believe you said something about leaving?" Lucius held his hands up in mock defeat and edged back off the train, waving at them.

"Now, Harry," Draco turned to his friend with a menacing gleam in his eyes. "What about me in Muggle clothes?" Harry sniggered and leaned back into his seat, speculatively eyeing Draco's tasteful clothes.

He wore charcoal grey trousers and matching waistcoat, which covered most of his pale blue shirt with the top button undone and navy tie. He looked impeccable, which made Harry think that perhaps Narcissa had starched the shirt so heavily that Draco couldn't move.

"Nothing's wrong…" Harry said, after a moment. "I just couldn't imagine it, that's all." Draco grinned and settled back into his seat.

"Hey, have you done something to your nose?" Draco asked as he sat back in his seat. "It looks more crooked than it did before."

"Walked into something," Harry mumbled, before changing the conversation topic. "We're leaving, you know. You ought to wave at your parents, they're looking this way." Harry pointed to Lucius and Narcissa, the former holding a pristine white handkerchief and dabbing it at her eyes. Draco waved at them, smiling until the train pulled out of the station.

"Took us long enough," he said. "Merlin, it's been a long summer. Bet you're glad to be rid of those Muggles, though, aren't you?" Harry nodded in agreement.

"Too right. I hate them. Last thing my uncle said to me? That he wished I didn't come back. Well I bloody wish the same thing."

"Father made some enquiries at the Ministry, you know, but he couldn't get to talk to whoever was in charge of you living there. He was going to try to fix it so you could come live with us, at the Manor."

"You have a _Manor?"_ Harry asked incredulously. "Is it big?"

"Yeah, it's massive. Father says that when I'm older, I can have my own suite, rather than just my rooms. I bet you'll be able to stay over too, if you like. Just watch, Father will get things sorted, he always does. After all, everyone has a price, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." Harry trailed off, and stared at the countryside out of the window. He was glad when a clattering outside in the corridor startled them both. A smiling, dimpled woman slid open their compartment door.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" Harry and Draco jumped up enthusiastically.

"You know," Draco looked slyly back at Harry. "We could have anything we want. Everything. Nobody to stop us, and you've never tried Wizarding sweets… How do you fancy getting some of everything, and then splitting it?"

"Sure, just make sure there's enough for both of us, though." Harry grinned widely, and both of them began snaffling items from the trolley. The grand total came to two Galleons and four Sickles, which they shared between them

Neither of the pair wasted a moment before diving into the pile of sweets. Draco kept up a running commentary on all of the different confectionary.

"This is an Acid Pop. You can only eat them really slowly, one lick at a time or they burn through your tongue. Father gave me one when I was younger, and I didn't know so I actually burnt a hole through my tongue. Mother was so mad at him, it was hilarious." They ate their way through any number of sweets.

Exploding bonbons blew up in your mouth, or if you swallowed quickly you could feel it in the pit of your stomach. Harry nearly choked the first time it did, causing Draco to laugh at him to no end. Fizzing Whizzbees made you float in the air for a minute or two and after Draco had a Pepper Imp he breathed fire for a whole minute.

They ate Cauldron Cakes, Jelly Slugs and Pumpkin Pasties, taking their time over the Sugar Quills. Next, they carried on with the strange sweets by eating Liquorice Wands and Shock-a-Choc chocolate. It was a strange experience for Harry, never having had food speak to him. They had a competition to see whose chocolate would say the worst things, but all of Harry's seemed to recognise him somehow, and only tried to compliment him.

Harry's first experience with a chocolate frog actually made Draco snort; as soon as the packet was opened, the frog jumped out, and led Harry on a merry dance all around the compartment before escaping out of the open window. The second frog, however, faced death by digestion instantly.

They were lazing about, discussing the worst Bertie Bott's flavours and the best Wizard cards when their compartment door slid open again. A tall, muscular boy entered, followed by a younger girl with dark brown hair. Both wore their school uniform and wizarding robes with green accents.

"Have either of you seen a black cat?" the boy asked in a bored tone of voice, without looking at them. "Olivia here's lost one." The girl nodded shyly, with dark, wide eyes belying her awe of the older boy.

"No, we've seen no cat," Draco said. Harry noticed the way that Draco had shifted slightly, with a straightened back. He looked bigger, and his lifted chin showed his lack of fear. Harry copied the pose, causing a small smirk to show on Draco's face.

"Go search down the train again, then, Olivia," the boy said, turning away from Harry and Draco. As he turned back to take his leave, his eyes narrowed at Draco. "A Malfoy?" At Draco's cautious nod he chuckled slightly. "It's your hair. No other family has blonde _that_ white. I'm Flint, Marcus Flint. You have to be Draco. Who's your friend?" He turned to look at Harry curiously. "You don't look like any of the Pureblood families I know…"

"Potter, Harry Potter." Harry consciously copied Marcus Flint's order of words. "Pleased to meet you."

"Borderline, Malfoy," Flint said. "Your father heard of this?"

"Harry has met my father, Flint. He approves of the friendship." Marcus nodded slowly, his hand coming up to rub at his chin.

"So, Potter, what house are you looking for?" he asked, leaning back against the now-closed door.

"Lucius seems to think I'll be sorted into Slytherin," Harry responded. "Along with Draco."

"Good," Flint nodded his head absently. "Good. We'll be wanting some decent wizards in Slytherin again. Last year was a travesty; most of them are fools. Good luck." Flint turned to leave again but turned back at the last minute. "You should put your uniform and robes on; we'll be arriving soon enough."

After Marcus left, the two decided to try their last sweets - Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Harry managed eight, flavoured strawberry, mint, grass, pickle, burnt toast, turnip, cheese and tomato before deciding that the beans would be better used as projectile missiles. They were in the midst of their warfare when another boy entered their compartment. Like them, he wore Muggle clothes, but his were much more worn. Harry recognised him as being from the raggedy family he had seen on the platform.

The boy's head was turned away from the compartment; he was looking at somebody else in the corridor and saying something Harry nor Draco could hear properly. He closed the door behind him and then turned, freezing in shock as three beans hit his face.

"Oi! Why'd you throw those for?" He scowled darkly at Draco. "Oh, silly me, it's a Malfoy. Of course you threw them." His eyes flicked over to rest on Harry. "You're Harry Potter… what are you doing sharing a compartment with him?"

Harry self-consciously flattened his fringe over his forehead again, making sure it covered his lightening bolt scar.

"Well, we were having fun before you turned up," Draco took a sniff, and pulled a face. "You smell, Weasley. Guess your family couldn't afford soap to wash with."

"Yeah, well it's obvious that you spend all your time washing, you little ponce!" The redhead retorted angrily, taking a step towards Draco, who snorted rather inelegantly.

"Ah, so being clean is a bad thing now, Weasley? Do us a favour will you, and close the door when you leave? The room is really starting to stink." Draco turned away with a disaffected air, but Harry could see him watching the other boy's reflection in the window.

"I don't think you know who you're sharing a compartment with," the redhead told Harry. "I'm Ron Weasley, and he," here Ron jerked a thumb at Draco, "is a piece of _scum._ Why don't you come and share my compartment, you'll get much better company."

"You know what? I think I'll pass. The company here is pretty good." Harry said, mimicking Draco's blasé attitude.

"You don't know what his family's like," the brat persisted. "I bet they were the ones who killed your parents."

"Really?" Harry asked, mock-seriously. "Do you think so?"

"Yeah, I do!" The Weasley boy turned up his nose in what he probably thought was magnanimity, but in reality just gave Harry a clear view up his nose. Harry laughed at the sight.

"Get a grip. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killed my parents. I'm sure if you could read, you'd find it in the history books." Harry snapped spitefully. "And, for the record, I've met Draco's parents. They're a damn sight better than you."

"Look, Harry, who you meet at Hogwarts can change your whole life," Weasley tried again, this time with a softer hand. "You don't want to be mixing with the wrong people from the start."

"I don't remember telling you that you could use my name, Weasley." Ron stepped back slightly as Harry stood, his venomous words clearly hitting home.

"Listen, mate, his parents are a bad sort, everyone knows they were-"

"You leave my parents out of this!" Draco yelled heatedly, but his words were ignored as Harry stepped up close to Ron, emerald eyes fixed on the cornflower blue ones.

"Really? When I met them they were a damn sight nicer than you seem to have been. Also, I am not, and I doubt that I ever will be, your 'mate'. I think you should leave," he said quietly, his eyes never wavering from the taller boy's.

"Stupid bastard!" Ron cried and struck out at Harry's stomach, then his face. Draco dived forward to catch Harry, but was surprised when Harry didn't even blink at the blood running down his face once more.

"Leave," Harry said darkly. "Before you regret staying." For a moment, Ron Weasley wasn't going to move, but thankfully he whirled round and removed himself. Harry sagged with relief as Draco guided him back to his seat.

"Are you alright, Harry?" he asked in concern. "Do you want me to get someone from the teachers' carriage?"

"No," Harry's head shook vehemently. "I'll be fine. It's just a broken nose, nothing new." He stood abruptly and rummaged through his trunk. "I'll be back in a few minutes, I'm going to go get changed and clean up." He left the room, robes clutched tightly in his hands.

When Harry returned, all of the blood had been carefully washed from his face, and his clothes had been replaced with school uniform and tailored robes. His nose was a little more crooked than it had been before he got on the train, and a little red, but other than that it would be difficult to tell that he had been injured just minutes before.

"Harry?" Draco asked tentatively. "Are you…?"

"You should go put your robes on," Harry said blankly. "The train will get there in a few minutes. Just please, don't mention this to anyone." Draco nodded, his jaw set and exited the compartment brusquely. Draco somehow managed to take longer to change than Harry, even without having blood to clean up, so he only just made it back into the compartment as the train slowed to a halt.

Both Harry and Draco pressed their faces to the glass of the window. A voice echoed through the carriage as they stared at the small station.

"We have reached the final destination; Hogsmeade, Wizarding Village. Would all students enrolling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry please leave their luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry and Draco were among the last off the train, both quickly putting the clothes they'd just taken off back into their trunks before disembarking. They looked round curiously, eyes wide in excitement, although they did take particular care to stay fairly close to one another.

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!" A booming voice shouted over the noisy crowd of students. Harry nodded towards the direction of the voice, and Draco followed him that way. When they got closer, Harry could see exactly who was shouting; Hagrid. "All righ' there, Harry?" He called with a grin on his face.

"Hagrid." Harry called back, a tight smile on his face. Hagrid beamed at the sights, before turning away, still shouting.

"Firs'-years, follow me! C'mon! Mind yer step!" Slipping and stumbling, Harry and Draco joined the small crowd that followed the bumbling giant.

Hagrid led them down a narrow, badly lit, muddy path. The area around the path was so dark that Harry rightly guessed it must be tree lined. Draco nudged Harry gently in the side as they hit a bend in the path.

"Just look at that, Harry," he breathed in delight. "Isn't it amazing?" Harry merely nodded, dumbstruck by the sight. The castle was the brightest thing they could see. Light shone from its many windows, making it almost glow, as if the castle was part of an eerie fairy tale. Even from the distance they were at, Harry could see the many turrets and towers that protruded from the natural roof-line.

"It's beautiful," a girl's voice from behind them squeaked. "So beautiful. I never imagined it could be so…"

"Yeah." Harry gulped. "It is. I'm Harry, by the way."

"Hermione, Hermione Granger," the girl said. As Harry turned to look at her, he saw a wild mane of bushy hair and honey coloured eyes set into a pale, thin face. Before either of them could say any more, Hagrid stopped still in front of a wide, still lake. In the darkness, the water looked pitch black.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid yelled back at them, pointing to a fleet of boats not unlike the one in which Harry and Hagrid had first travelled in. "Get in, then!" Following his own advice, Hagrid took up a whole boat to himself.

Harry and Draco headed towards the nearest boat to them, and jumped in quickly, sitting next to each other. The girl that Harry had been talking to, Hermione, followed them, as did a slightly chubbier boy that Harry hadn't seen before.

"Forward!" Hagrid commanded the boats. "Forward."

"I'm Hermione Granger." The girl introduced herself to Draco first, and then to the fat boy, whose name turned out to be Neville.

"Harry Potter," Harry said to Neville, shaking his hand. Neville's hand went slack, and Hermione gasped incredulously.

"I've read all about you! You're so famous! But I don't suppose I ever thought you'd be here!" Draco rolled his eyes with a teasing grin at Harry, who had groaned quietly at the enthusiasm.

"Well, it looks like I _am_ here," Harry said shortly. Thankfully, the boats soon bumped against the bank on the other side of the lake. Everybody clambered out of the boats, Draco dragging Harry in front of everyone else, leaving them right at the head of the group as they walked across the grass of the castle grounds towards the imposing stonework. They stumbled up a set of steep steps, where Hagrid turned to face them all.

"Ever'one still here?" He did a quick head count and nodded to himself. "Good. 'Ere we go!"

Hagrid raised a gargantuan fist, and banged against the solid oak three times. Harry looked nervously to Draco, who smiled reassuringly as the door slowly swung open.


	8. Chapter 8: Slytherin

- Chapter 8 -

Slytherin

Behind the great oaken doors stood an older woman wearing ruby red wizarding robes. Her dark hair was pulled tightly into a severe bun, making her frown lines stand out despite the pinched smile that was plastered onto her face.

" I gots the firs'-years, 'ere for ye P'fessor McGonagall," Hagrid said, bobbing his head to her.

"Thank you, Mr Hagrid." She inclined her head slightly to the large man. "I shall take them from here. Follow me!" she barked at the assemblage of eleven year olds before striding off into the large hall.

With a quick glance at each other, and a small shrug, Draco and Harry led the other first years in the path of the woman. Harry barely stopped himself from whistling in amazement at the size of the Entrance Hall. It was even bigger than he had imagined. When he'd first read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_, he had calculated that the Dursley's house would have fit in there several times, but the sight of the large hall nearly had him awestruck.

As it was, only Draco's quick elbow to the ribs stopped Harry from standing stock-still, like a fool, and they hurried to keep up with the elderly witch. Harry could hear the drone of voices from a doorway to his right, but Professor McGonagall led them into a small chamber slightly further on. They all crowded in, standing rather closer to each other than any of them would have ordinarily preferred. McGonagall stood in the doorway, an imposing figure.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," the Professor said stiffly. "I trust that you have all read '_Hogwarts, A History_', so I shall not speak for long about the school. Hogwarts is the oldest, and the most revered school of magic in the British Isles, and you are expected to behave with decorum at all times. Once you are Sorted, your Head of House will explain all of the school rules, and your Housemates will help you also. The Sorting ceremony will begin shortly, please smarten yourselves up!" Her eyes rested upon Weasley's face, which had several smudges of unknown origin, and Granger's hair; a good portion had escaped the headband she wore, and it stuck out like a halo around her head.

Draco rolled his eyes and let out a sigh of relief as the Professor left the room.

"Long speech and a load of crap. Most revered school… Only school more like!" He murmured into Harry's ear. The two, having been among the first to enter the room were now pressed into the back wall of the chamber. Harry was grateful for that fact now, as he leaned back into the wall, taking some of his weight from his shaking legs.

"I guess, yeah," Harry whispered back. "Hey, Draco, how exactly do they sort us?" Before Draco could say anything else, the Professor returned and Sorted them into one big alphabetical line and the two friends were separated from each other.

Harry found himself standing behind a girl with wispy, ginger hair and in front of a smiling boy with wide eyes. He could see Draco's fair hair about ten people in front of him, but saw no way to communicate with his friend. Harry sighed but held his shoulders high as they entered the Great Hall.

Most of the other first years gasped and openly gawked at the décor, but Harry was proud in the knowledge that his awe did not show. Thousands of candles lit the room, some were in wall sconces, but most were suspended in the air above four long tables that sat the Hogwarts students. Harry assumed that each table was for a different House. The ceiling was the most magnificent thing about the room, though.

When they had been outside, the stars had been out in all of their glory, and the ceiling now reflected that. All the stars looked the same as when Harry had been outside. In all fairness, Harry was no astronomer, but it looked pretty accurate to him. On their left was a table on a raised dais that sat the Professors. Behind them were four hourglasses with different coloured crystal stones in them. Harry thought the castle looked amazing.

The line stopped moving abruptly as Professor McGonagall stopped and placed a stool in front of them. She turned back to the high table and took a battered old hat from the oldest man there and placed it onto the stool. Harry watched with baited breath to see what the hat would do. It must turn into something, or maybe that was for them to do. Perhaps that was the test.

Just when Harry was about to lose patience, the hat straightened up, seemingly holding itself erect. A mouth seemed to form in it, and it coughed a little. And then it began to sing.

_ You may not understand, _

_ My reasons (though they're true), _

_ Your merry troupe I must disband,_

_ And dissever all of you. _

_ Though I hate I must divide,_

_ My job need still be done, _

_ You'll have a place you may reside,_

_ A home for everyone._

_ It began with just the four,_

_ An honest dream for them,_

_ And now their school does soar,_

_ Amongst the best, a gem._

_ First came brave Gryffindor,_

_ I'll take those of courage, said he,_

_ Those who dare, with great nerve,_

_ And a sense of chivalry._

_ Then came sly Slytherin,_

_ He said I'll take those of ambition,_

_ Who can think for themselves,_

_ A true tactician._

_ Next came wise Ravenclaw,_

_ Her choices, those with wit and brains,_

_ Those of creativity and wisdom,_

_ A legacy that still remains._

_ And finally dear Hufflepuff,_

_ Chose those loyal and just and true,_

_ Those hard-working and honest,_

_ And taught them all she knew._

_ They could not help but wonder,_

_ How to sort once they were gone,_

_ Yet thanks to a small blunder,_

_ In me this hat, they do live on._

_ So set me down upon your head,_

_ I know where you belong,_

_ To sort you is my duty,_

_ I pray I won't be wrong!_

Harry blinked at the voice that came from the hat, his mind quickly running through the possibilities of what it had said. It seemed like they just had to put the thing on their heads, and it would say the name of a House. However his speculation time was cut short as Professor McGonagall stepped forward. With a wave of her wand a roll of parchment flew from her pocket and unfurled in the air in front of her.

"When I call your name you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted. Abbot, Hannah!" She called the name out loud enough for the entire hall to hear.

The girl at the front of the queue stepped forward, her blonde pigtails swinging in front of her blushing red face. She stumbled a little as she made her way to the stool, and lifted the hat to her head.

"Sit down first dear," Professor McGonagall said in an undertone. "It can take something out of you if you're not careful." The girl looked up at the older woman with wide eyes but sat before putting the hat on. A moment's pause-

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. The second table from the door, who wore yellow ties all cheered loudly. Hannah removed the hat and hurriedly headed over to the table. Some older students moved to make room for her and she sat down happily. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall was peering at the list again.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouted again, more students moving out of the way so the two young girls could sit with each other.

Boot, Terry and Brocklehurst, Mandy went to Ravenclaw, the other central table, to the left of the Hufflepuff table. The students there wore blue ties.

Brown, Lavender was the first Gryffindor, and the table nearest the door managed to cheer louder than the other two tables combined, despite having roughly the same number of students. They all wore red ties.

Bullstrode, Millicent was a strapping girl, a full head taller than Harry and the first to become a member of Slytherin House. They were the furthest from the door, which Harry approved of and all wore green ties. As Harry watched Millicent, he noticed her tie shimmer and change colour as she walked over to the table, changing to match that of her newfound housemates.

Harry's mind glazed over as the others in front of him were Sorted, only watching familiar faces as they out the hat on. Hermione Granger, the bushy-haired girl he had shared a boat with wore the hat for a minute or two, and made odd faces while she did so. Eventually, the hat called out "RAVENCLAW!" and she went to sit down.

Neville, the round-faced boy who'd also shared their boat was Sorted to Gryffindor. Harry privately wondered how such a spineless boy could go to 'the house of the brave'.

The hat barely had to touch Draco's platinum blond head before it announced, "SLYTHERIN!"Draco had smirked and sauntered to the far table. Harry noticed that a few boys moved out of the way for him to sit next to Marcus Flint.

A pair of Indian twins by the name of Patil were in tears as they were separated into Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and then all too soon…

"Potter, Harry!" The room quieted at this, before a loud buzz of conversation followed.

"Harry Potter?"

"The boy who lived!"

"Is it really him?"

"He defeated You-Know-Who!"

Harry held his head high and kept an even pace as he walked over to the stool. He lifted the hat above his head, and then firmly pulled it down.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "You're difficult, very difficult. Parents both Gryffindors, and you have the courage to go there. But you could be very loyal too, if you had someone worthy of your loyalty… Then again, you have a fine mind to boot, could swing it for Ravenclaw. A nice thirst to prove yourself too, I see. How about Gr-"

"No!" Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought hard. "No! Not there! I want to be in Slytherin! _Put me in Slytherin_!" He didn't know if his controlling-voice would work in his thoughts, but it was worth a try at the very least. The hat chuckled.

"That won't work on me, but you might just be right, Mr Potter." It laughed again, a throaty sound. "Nobody has ever tried to influence me like _that _before… Here we go then…"

"SLYTHERIN!" Harry dimly heard it roar out. He stood and lifted the hat off to raucous cheering from the Slytherin table and stunned silence from the rest of the school. Even the teachers at the head table seemed frozen. Harry walked stiffly over to the Slytherin table, where, at a nod from Marcus Flint, yet another older boy moved down the table to let Harry sit next to Draco. Marcus leaned across and shook Harry's hand thoroughly, a mildly apologetic smile on his face.

"My apologies for my behaviour on the train, I must admit I didn't think you'd end up here. Call me Marcus," he kept a semblance of his smile on his face through the entire speech, which Harry found mildly disturbing. "Welcome to Slytherin…" Marcus trailed off expectantly.

"I'm glad to be here, Marcus. Call me Harry," he offered graciously, although being careful to extend the sentiment to all of the others gathered around the table too.

Harry looked back up to the dais with the high table as a short girl was Sorted into Slytherin. None of the older boys around the table moved so she could sit, and she carried on down the table to sit next to a pug-faced girl that Harry remembered was called Pansy.

Harry turned away from the newest Slytherin recruit and ran his eyes across the teachers seated at the high table. At the end nearest the door sat Hagrid and a few places down from him sat the nervy Professor Quirrell. A man who looked older than anybody Harry had ever met sat in the centre of the table. Draco followed his gaze and leaned over to whisper to Harry.

"That's Dumbledore, the headmaster. Barmy old coot, my father calls him. He was a Gryffindor." Both Harry and Draco's faces twisted into sneers at that, and they both looked up again to see Turpin, Lisa Sorted to Ravenclaw. Marcus looked curiously at Harry and then leaned in towards them.

"Did you have some trouble on the train?" He asked. "Your nose looks…" Marcus trailed off uncertainly.

"Like it's been broken?" Harry supplied helpfully. "It probably has." Marcus narrowed his eyes, as did the other males around him.

"Who?" he bit out through his clenched jaw.

"Weasley. First year Weasley." Draco interjected. "He just about to be Sorted now. Gryffindor for sure." The others nodded speculatively.

"There's not been a Weasley that wasn't a Gryffindor." One commented as the Sorting Hat proved them right.

"We'll see to him for you, Harry." Marcus said solemnly. "You're one of us now. We protect our own." The other boys around him nodded, as did several of the girls that sat there too. They all cheered as the final first year, Zabini, Blaise, was Sorted into Slytherin. Professor McGonagall flicked her wand and the scroll vanished. Another wave of the wand and the hat and stool vanished, too.

The whole school fell silent as Dumbledore got to his feet. He wore a large smile that filled his entire face, and his arms were wide open exposing the lurid purple robe he wore.

"Welcome all of you to Hogwarts!" he called out cheerfully. "To all of our new students, and to all of our returning students, welcome to school! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words; Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" With that he sat down. Three quarters of the school cheered and clapped. Harry's quarter, the Slytherin quarter seemed to raise an eyebrow as one.

"He's crazy," Harry said almost disbelievingly. "Completely crazy." The other students around him nodded glumly before helping themselves to the food that had miraculously appeared on the golden platters in front of them.

Harry had to struggle to stop his mouth from watering as he stared at the dishes on the table. There was so much food, and so varied too! He saw roast chicken, sausages, Shepherd's pie, bowls full of colourful vegetables, potatoes in every way one could think of, and oddly, a bowl of mint humbugs.

Harry took in a deep breath of the many smells that assailed him, feeling better fed from that breath than in the previous ten years that he had been living with the Dursleys. Harry carefully took small portions of some of the foods he knew he liked to eat and slowly chewed his meal. The goblet next to him had been filled with an orange coloured juice, which Draco told him was pumpkin.

It seemed like an age to Harry before the food disappeared from the tables. He had barely managed to eat a few forkfuls of the rich fare, before feeling full. Harry spent a fair amount of time talking to the other students around the table. A sandy haired boy called Peregrine talked him through most of the lessons at the school, and Lucian Bole told him about all of the teachers.

Thankfully though, the food _did_ vanish and all heads turned expectantly to the head table, where the headmaster was already standing.

"Now we're all happily fed and watered, I'd just like to give you a few start of term notices…" The Headmaster began, but a low buzz of conversation sprung up at the Slytherin table.

"No point listening to the twat," Marcus told Harry and Draco in an undertone. "He says the same rubbish every year. I'll tell you what you need to go. Forbidden Forest is a bad idea, so is the third floor corridor, according to the prefects. If you have anything dangerous, or fun, hide it well." He paused to think for a moment. "Oh, and the Head Boy this year is a Slytherin - Terrence Higgs, over here." He pointed at a tall, handsome boy with a badge on his chest. "Avoid Dumbledore, if you can. That's about it."

"And if you want anything Quidditch related, go to Marcus," a boy Harry didn't know spoke up. Marcus threw his chest out, proudly showing off the badge on his chest that proclaimed him to be a 'Quidditch Captain'. Harry made a mental note to find out what on earth Quidditch was, and why it needed a Captain.

They stopped speaking for a moment, as a gesture was relayed down the table. Harry surmised it meant that the speech was ending, as quiet resumed, and they could hear the last sentence or two of the Headmaster's words.

"Thank you for listening to an old man who likes to hear himself speak. I wish you all a good year here at Hogwarts, please follow your Prefects to your Houses, and GOODNIGHT!" He roared the last word out as most of the school had stood and began to exit the hall.

Slytherin had, for the most part, stayed seated. Only after a good portion of the rest of the school left did the Slytherin Prefects rise to their feet.

"You take the first-years with Flint, Montague," a strange boy called out. "The rest of you split up. One from each year takes point, one takes tail. Seventh years split the same way! First-years gather round Flint, (Raise your arm man!), you'll take centre!" Harry and Draco stuck close to the elder boy, barely having to move to stand next to him.

"First year Slytherin's!" Marcus roared. "Stick close to me!" After waiting a minute for any stragglers, they set off, following behind the rest of their house. Draco and Harry fell slightly behind, their attention stolen by a portrait of rowdy monks drinking some kind of ale.

"So you're Harry Potter," a voice from behind them made both boys spin around to face two identical red headed twins. Harry recognised them as belonging to the raggedy-family, which would make them Weasleys.

"How the mighty have fallen," the other one said. "Such a pity, Sorted into Slytherin and,"

"With a pet Malfoy to boot." The finishing of each other's sentences was beginning to get on Harry's nerves. "We heard you met our brother,"

"On the train. I don't think you,"

"Got on very well, did you?"

"Your brother is an ass." Harry cut in stepping forwards towards the two twins. "Why don't you ask him what actually happened on the train? I get the feeling he gave you an altered version of events."

"Hey you!"

"Leave our brother out of this!" They both pulled their wands simultaneously, and Harry winced at the flash of blue light, expecting something painful but-

"_Protego!" _Called a deep voice, and a Slytherin boy stepped forwards, pushing Harry behind him as he did so. "I don't think you two want to know how many curses I know, do you? _Run, _Weasleys. _Run_." The two redheads shared a wide-eyed glance, before retreating up the stairs, muttering mutinously. The boy turned to them, and Harry could see that it was the boy who had given instructions in the Great Hall, at the end of the feast. "Are you two okay? Marcus noticed you were missing, so I came back to find you. What did you do to piss off the Gryffindors already?" He asked.

"I refused to go sit with some on the train." Harry explained. "Their brother asked me, but I turned him down."

"Bloody typical," the boy said. "Stupid Gryffindors, don't know how to take no for an answer, do they? I'm Terrence, by the way. Terrence Higgs, I'm Head Boy this year, so if they give you anymore trouble just come to me, okay?" Harry and Draco nodded enthusiastically, and Terry gave them a sly side wards grin. "Although, if you went to Marcus for help, he wouldn't be limited to dealing with Professors and not breaking the rules, if you catch my drift. Anyway, we've got to get you pair to the common room, follow me."

Terrence walked more slowly than Marcus had, and took a little time to talk about some of the paintings and Hogwarts in general.

"Seeing as you two are missing Professor Snape's 'new year' speech, I'll fill you in a little," he said. "It won't sound half as good, but you'll get the gist of things.

"You should know that you've been Sorted into the least liked House, but we're the best. We've won the House cup, and the Quidditch cup, six years running, and I'll be damned if we won't win them again this year, though hopefully we'll find a decent Seeker. That's been me for the last few years, but because I'm Head Boy I'm not allowed to play again.

"The other Houses aren't too fond of us, though, so we have to keep things together, to keep everyone safe. Nobody under third year walks alone, and only then if you're a good duellist. If you see a Slytherin who's in trouble, go to them. Even if you're no good at anything, there's safety in numbers. The more of us there are, the less likely it is that anything will happen. Also, we don't show any weaknesses to the other Houses, so basically don't air your dirty laundry in public. If you argue with somebody, do it in the common room, or in the dorms, but when you leave Slytherin territory, you look as if you're best friends, no matter what.

"You learn a lot more in Slytherin House than in a lot of the other Houses, and we tend to have a lot more fun, too." Terrence stopped walking abruptly as they reached a dead end. "This is the entrance to the common room. Today's password is _Schlange, _which means snake in German, I think." As he said the password, the wall in front of them split into two, and opened just wide enough for one person to pass through.

Terrence walked through the gap easily, Harry and Draco following through. If Harry had noticed the wall closing behind him, he would have been nervous. As it was he was too busy ogling the common room. It seemed almost green tinted, and was quite dark, but that just reminded him of his cupboard. The dark was the only resemblance, however, as the common room was large and open, with windows all around the edges of the room (although these were currently curtained off) and comfortable furniture of all sorts in the colour green. There were several fireplaces, and plenty of tables for working on.

Harry's eyes flickered about the many older students gathered around the fireplaces, seeing none of the newly Sorted first years. He guessed that it was past their curfew, or that perhaps the older students had removed the younger ones, as he couldn't see any second or third years either. Draco, having also noticed the lack of younger students, spoke up.

"Perhaps we should be off to our dorms, if you would show us?" he asked carefully, head tilted to the right.

"Not so fast," Terrence smirked. "You two need to tell me exactly what happened, and why I had to rescue the pair of you. Come sit with me." Terrence led them over to a group of older boys and girls who sat around the largest fire, smiling and laughing, gesturing for them to sit on a low sofa close to a kissing couple in an armchair. Terrence cuffed the boy on the back of his head. "There's kids here, save the show for later," he joked, a wide grin in place across his face.

"Thanks, Tez," the boy said winking, and ducked behind the girl on his lap when Terrence threw a cushion at his head. "Okay, okay! I surrender!"

"That's a good little boy, Jacob, do as you're told." Terrence said, catching the cushion when the other boy, Jacob, threw it back. Harry and Draco watched the scene with veiled amusement, as did the others sitting with them. "Right, I'd best introduce you all then." Terrence said finally. "These two are Draco Malfoy, and Harry Potter," he said, pointing at them. "I think we'll have to watch out for them, I just caught them dodging hexes on their first day." Jacob grinned toothily at them, eyes widening at Harry's name.

"I think I like you already," he said. "I'm Jacob, Jacob Blishwick. This sweet thing is Marylyn Max." The girl on his lap gave a simpering smile, and a half wave, before wrapping her arm around Jacob's neck once more, and pressing her face into his chest. He grinned once more, and wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Although she won't be a Max for long; we're to be married after this year."

"Congratulations," Harry offered, causing Jacob to bestow him with a wide grin.

"These two are Paulie Gamp and Matteus Prince. Then we have Lucy Patel, Jess Chambers and Camélia Gladiolus. Camélia is our precious flower…" Terrence was stopped in his tracks by a stream of French obscenities, that only Draco of the two first years understood.

"Remarkable language for a lady, don't you think?" Terrence said to the pair conversationally. "At least I think it is, but I don't speak French."

"I do," Draco revealed. "She says she knows a hex to remove your… parts." Terrence paled slightly and unconsciously leaned over, protecting himself.

"Then my apologies go to a beautiful woman!" Terrence smiled charmingly. "Along with my prayers for lenience, dear Madamoiselle!" One side of Camélia's mouth quirked up. "Here's a lesson for you, anyway, don't tease Camélia about her name. Both her first and last are flowers, hence my completely inappropriate joke." He looked sideways at Camélia then whispered conspiratorially to Harry and Draco. "Think I've apologised enough yet?"

"Enough of your laughter," Camélia said in a surprisingly clear accent. "You've missed one of us, Terrence darling." She turned to the fair haired boy who sat on her right hand side. "This is Josef Yaxley." Josef's mouth quirked up slightly on one side as he played with his fingers, refusing to look up.

"And that's all of our introductions, which only leaves me one question. Why, on your first day, are you being chased by Gryffindors?" Terrence looked at them, his head cocked to one side, eyes flashing.

"It's as I told you," Harry said smoothly. "Their brother felt that I had wronged him when I wouldn't sit with him on the train, and I would imagine he made up a story, of sorts." Terrence smiled slightly.

"You're a good liar, you know. But I already talked to Marcus. Any reason your nose is more crooked than it was on the train?"

"None-" Harry sighed as Draco shook his head.

"To be fair, Harry, Marcus wasn't wrong. The Weasley boy punched him, must have broken his nose, I guess."

"Thanks, Draco." Harry told him sardonically. "Wanted the whole world to hear that." Terrence stopped Draco's retort with a raised palm.

"Did you retaliate?" Harry shook his head. "Good. We can get Gryffindor down a good few points then. I reckon if we get to Snape before his morning coffee, they'll be down by at least one hundred." He paused for a second. "One of you will have to do it though, I'm Head Boy, and _clearly_ can't show favour to any House. Camélia? Use your big eyes on him?" Camélia snorted derisively.

"The day that man notices a woman is the day the world ends." The other girls laughed with her, while the boys just smirked. "I will take both of you in the morning," she told Harry and Draco. "Wait for me here, I'll take you to breakfast, too. And if our dear Head of House only wishes to talk to our celebrity, you and I will have a sweet talk in French, no?" She winked coyly at Draco, who seemed to be trying hard not to blush.

"But for now, I think these two need to be in bed." Jacob said, a wry smile on his face. "Sit with us at breakfast tomorrow and tell us how it goes. Hey, Terrence, isn't it in your job description to show ickle-firsties to their dorms?" Terrence grumbled but obligingly stood, gesturing for Harry and Draco to follow him.

He led them across the common room, pausing to smile and wave at a few other students, towards two dark, empty doorways. As they neared them, Harry realised that they were two staircases leading even further downwards. Terrence pointed at the left hand one, and raised an eyebrow.

"That is the girls' dorms. If you step on the staircase, it will turn into a spring set and forcibly eject you. Of course, you realise the obvious flaw; a levitation charm on yourself, or a broom, will get you down there fairly easily. The right hand staircase is the boys', ours. Go down as many staircases as you can, and it's the door with your names on. I'm sure you'll like the view, that was my favourite room." Draco looked at Terrence, mystified, but the elder boy refused to elaborate, only gesturing that they should go down. Harry sighed, and led the way down the staircase, rightly recognising the single pair of footsteps behind him as Draco's.

"Well," he craned his neck back to look at Draco. "I think I'm gonna like it here. Have you written to your father yet? I'm sure he'll be glad to know you're here." Draco shook his head with a sardonic grin.

"Harry, we've been with each other since the sorting, how would I ever have written him?" Both of them laughed a little then, stopping at the daunting sight of the door to their dormitory.

"Here goes," Harry said, pushing firmly on the door.


	9. Chapter 9: Head of House

- Chapter 9 -

Head Of House

Harry woke early at the sound of the dormitory door creaking open. He sat up in bed and opened his curtains a crack to see Marcus Flint creeping in through the doorway, wand in hand. The older boy gestured for Harry to put his fingers in his ears, and then swished his wand.

A loud wailing sound echoed through the room, provoking loud groans, and Harry fancied he heard one loud _thump _as someone fell out of bed.

"Rise and shine boys!" Marcus grinned before cancelling the spell. "Hey, Harry, make sure you and Draco are upstairs in five. I'm told Camélia will be waiting for you in the common room." Harry nodded to show Marcus he understood and turned to his trunk to get out some clothes. He paused, looking between his usual clothes and school clothes, unsure of which to wear. Luckily, Marcus began to call out instructions again. "School uniforms, robes included, we'll do a head count before we leave the common room, but watch where you're going so you can learn."

Harry grinned at his good fortune and hastily scrambled into his school clothes. He noticed with some amusement that all of his clothes were now embellished with the Slytherin logo. His white shirt, grey jumper, formerly white tie and (for some unknown reason) his new black socks now sported the green and sliver insignia.

Once Harry had dressed himself, taking a few moments to knot his tie correctly, he pulled his curtains completely open, expecting the others to be doing the same, however to his consternation all of them were snoring, obviously still tired from the late night they'd had.

All of the new Slytherin boys had stayed up, getting to know each other. Vince and Greg were a little bit slow, but what they didn't have in brains, they made up for with brawn and with their steadfast loyalty to each other. Harry likened Blaise to a hyperactive puppy – he'd started a pillow fight before actually introducing himself. Harry quite liked him, although Draco was a little less enamoured. Theo was basically the opposite of Blaise and during the pillow fight had actually been playing chess. He was much more introverted and didn't really like to say much.

Harry smirked, looked round at all of his new friends and took a deep breath.

"EVERYBODY UP!" he shouted as loudly as he could. There was a yelp, several groans, and another thump as somebody (presumably the same person as earlier) fell out of bed. He grinned and headed into the door that Theo had come from the previous night. As he had guessed, it was a bathroom. Harry brushed his teeth and washed his face fairly quickly, wondering what to do if none of the others were up yet.

As Harry walked back into the dormitory, he noticed only one bed with the curtains closed; Blaises's. Harry grabbed Draco's arm, and pointed at Blaise's bed.

"Let's scream in his ear!" Draco suggested in a whisper. Harry nodded, and the two boys slipped through the curtains quietly.

"Three, two, one…" Harry counted.

"MORNING BLAISE!" shouted Draco, at the same time as Harry yelled, "GET UP BLAISE!" Blaise jumped and fell out of bed with an inarticulate shout. His dark eyes glared at them both as he got to his feet.

"Hating you both right now," he mumbled as he stumbled off into the bathroom.

"Hey, Vince?" Harry called across the room. "Make sure he doesn't drown in the shower or anything, will you? We've got somewhere to be."

"Yeah," Draco drawled, "a beautiful woman awaits!" Harry and Draco shared a smirk as they exited the room and climbed up the many stairs, encountering few other students on their way up. As they entered the common room they saw it was nearly empty, except for a group of students playing chess. Camélia sat on the arm of one of the chairs, gesturing at a piece on the board. The boy whose chair she was sitting on tilted his head in defeat and apparently did as she said.

"Harry!" She waved a manicured hand in their direction. "Draco! Over here, my darlings!" She stood as they approached and enfolded them both in her arms. "Now don't mind my accent when we see the Professor, I'll explain afterwards. Just give me a moment to work myself up, and then leave everything to me." Camélia fluttered her hands in front of her eyes leaving Harry and Draco looking at each other confused.

"Getting a good head start on the Gryffindors already?" The boy at the chess board asked good-naturedly. "Don't worry about it, Camélia's brilliant."

"Erm, thanks." Harry replied, running a hand through his hair absentmindedly, before Camélia grabbed a hold of his hand and pulled him and Draco towards a small door that Harry hadn't noticed the previous night. She rapped on it smartly with the hand that held Draco's hand and was rewarded with a terse, "Enter" in a gruff voice.

"Proffesseur!" she cried as she entered, the two boys being dragged behind her, exchanging a glance at the obvious French accent. "Professeur, I 'ave 'eard ze most terrible thing! You poor things!" She looked back at Harry, then Draco with wide doe-eyes.

"What, precisely, is this 'terrible thing', Miss Gladiolus?" The man at the desk asked shortly without lifting his hand away from his eyes. His dark hair, reminiscent of Blaise's, hung lankly over skin as pale as Draco's. What could be seen of his robes were also black, and his mouth was twisted into a fierce scowl.

"Zey have been _attacked_!" Camélia exclaimed. "On zeir first day 'ere too! In ze school and on ze train." The Professor lifted his head slowly and sighed. His eyes snapped open, revealing two endless pools of obsidian. They first ran over Camélia's face, and then to her left, to Draco.

"Draco," the corner of his mouth curved up into a half-smile, before his eyes flicked back over Camélia, to Harry. "Mister Potter."

"Godfather," Draco replied.

"Professor Snape," Harry rightly remembered.

"Who was attacked, and by whom?" Snape asked tartly. Camélia answered swiftly that it was Harry who had been attacked, but his eyes didn't leave Harry once.

"Mister Potter, you will stay. Draco, Miss Gladiolus, you may wait for your friend in the common room or go to breakfast as you wish," he said after a moment's pause.

"We will wait," Camélia told him, gently releasing Harry's hand. "I would not leave you on your own - what if something else were to 'appen?" Draco and Camélia exited the room, leaving Harry alone with the scowling Professor.

"Mister Potter, _why_ were you attacked?" Snape narrowed his eyes marginally as he observed the boy in front of him, gesturing for Harry to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk.

"As far as I can tell, because I refused to sit with somebody on the train. And because I defended my friendship with Draco and his parents." Harry replied.

"Explain fully, please. From the beginning."

"Well, I was on the train with Draco when a boy with red hair came in. He recognised me, I'm not sure how. He recognised Draco, too, but he didn't seem to like the fact I was sharing a compartment with Draco. He said he was Ron Weasley, and that Draco was a piece of scum and that I should go and sit with him." Harry drew breath and looked up at the Professor, whose eyebrows had drawn together in a frown. "He insulted Draco's parents, and then he punched me. Twice."

"And the other time?" The older man was nearly growling now, one hand fluidly taking short notes with a quill on a piece of parchment on the desk.

"It was when we were on our way to the common room, Professor. Draco and I were looking at a painting when we heard voices behind us. There were two twins there, they said they were Weasley's brothers. They said something about me not getting on with him on the train, and then they tried to cast a spell at me."

"Tried?"

"Terrence Higgs came, and he stopped them. They ran off after that though."

"Where did the younger brother punch you?"

"My nose and my stomach."

"Stand." The professor stood too and pulled his wand from a holster on his wrist. "_Aperio vulnero_!"he intoned, flicking his wand up Harry's body.

Harry watched with interest as a replica of his body appeared in front of him, sections coloured in reds, oranges and blues. Most of the figure was in red and orange, with only small sections in blue.

"He did hit me, sir. I just heal quickly." At Snape's slightly confused look, Harry elaborated. "I mean, this shows where I'm hurt, right?" The Professor nodded slowly. "Which would make the blue parts the parts that are… damaged. Although I don't think I've ever hurt my ears, or my hands very badly." Harry looked up at his Professor and was startled to see the man moving around the table slowly.

He faced the apparition and waved his wand slowly in a circle, making it turn. He drew in a sharp breath when he saw the back, and his eyes glinted dangerously. He waved his wand once more, and it disappeared. He leaned back against his desk and seemed to think for a minute before speaking.

"Mister Potter, I must apologise to you," Snape said slowly, his voice not nearly as even as it had been. "When you came into this office, I wrongly assumed you to be like your father. You are not. You have suffered more in your tender years than many people suffer in their entire lives, and I fear that there may be more suffering in your future." He ran a hand across his face, grimacing as he did so. "Mr Potter, the blue areas on the body represent the undamaged parts of your body."

Harry drew in a sharp breath as he thought back to the body. His back had been the brightest red, followed closely by his chest and his rear. His entire head had been orange, and his legs were orange with red patches. With a sinking stomach, Harry realised that they were the places he had last had bruises.

"You didn't show too much magical ability before you got your letter, did you, Mister Potter?" Harry shook his head slowly. "When you focused your will?" Harry nodded. Snape smiled wryly. "I think that you're strong. I think that you're very strong. And I think that if your magic hadn't been in constant use healing you, you would have done extraordinary things." Snape sighed slowly. "I don't suppose that whoever visited you noticed what they were doing to you?"

"No," Harry said slowly. "But Hagrid did cast a spell at my Uncle that made pink smoke appear. Funny thing is, a few days later he grew a pig's tail." Snape snorted and grinned.

"If I were you, I wouldn't mention that to anyone," he suggested with a wink. "You have Potions with me last lesson, if you stay after I'll have a few potions for you that should help you clear things out. And on Tuesday nights I have a session for students like you, who have been mistreated, which you will be _expected _to attend until I deem fit. Now go to breakfast." Harry hesitated a moment, seeming to half-turn away.

"You said I was strong, Professor…" Harry began slowly.

"Yes I did, Mister Potter. As you heard it, I trust your hearing is not impaired."

"I… well… What does that _mean?_"

"There are… boundaries that define magical power as we know it, Mister Potter, with twelve distinct power ranges. There are _Muggles_, like your Aunt and Uncle, who have no magical power, then there are _Latents,_ two of whom together can give birth to a magical child. Next there are _Squibs_, who have enough power to be recognized by magical creatures and constructs, but not enough to wield power.

"Most students, when they begin schooling at Hogwarts are at a _Warlock_ level, most advance from this, however some do not have the capacity to do so, hence Warlock is used as an insult. The next two stages are _Illusionist, _and _Conjurer_, the main difference in power here relating to being able to actually conjure items. The next power band is _Sorcerers_, who can usually perform slightly more advanced magic, Magical Britain mostly consists of Sorcerers. Then comes _Shaman, _who have the power to become involved in rituals.

"After that is an _Adept, _adepts seem to have a more natural grasp of magical concepts, and can bend much magic to their will. The next two, _Mage _and _Magus _are particularly similar. Mages and Magus have the same amount of power, but a Magus can also draw some power from their surroundings. The final boundary is that of a _Thaumaturge_, who can draw power from _people _around them. Merlin was the last known Thaumaturge." The Professor had entered 'lecture mode' at around his second sentence. Harry wished he'd had a piece of paper to write it all down on.

"So… what am I?" Harry asked. As he was clearly _at _Hogwarts, he was obviously at least a Warlock, but other than that, he really didn't know…

"Somewhere near the border between Illusionist and Conjurer, I would imagine. Now, I believe your friends are waiting for you in the common room." The Professor looked down, to his papers, signalling the conversation was over.

"Sir, the Gryffindors?" Harry asked slyly, just before he left, hand on the doorknob, half-turned towards the desk.

"Fifty points and a week's detention apiece, I think." Harry reached for the door handle again, only to pause at the Professor's voice once more, thought with a tone of wry amusement this time. "And do tell Miss Gladiolus that I don't ever want to see her before I've had my morning coffee, won't you, Mr Potter?"

"Yes, Professor." Harry turned the handle and exited into a much more full common room. Draco was sitting in the nearest armchair, with Camélia perched on the arm, chattering happily. He wove his way through the other students nearby to get closer to them.

"…et vous le voyez, avec les cheveux bruns? Il est le meilleur chasseur sur notre équipe." Camélia nodded towards a tall boy with a similarly dark haired girl hanging from his waist.

"Oui? C'est une honte que les premiers étudiants d'année ne peuvent pas concurrencer, j'ont a toujours voulu jouer le chasseur." Draco replied fluently. "Oh, hi Harry!" he said, waving as he noticed his friend. "It took you long enough, I'm starving!" He smiled charmingly. "Camélia has offered to take us, vous avez-pas, ma petite fleur?"

"Now, now, Draco. Parlez-vous en français quelle nous sommes seuls." Camélia turned to Harry and slipped her arm in his. "Come on then, I suppose you're hungry as well? I will show you to the Great Hall. See if you can work out the way as we go."

Camélia led Draco and Harry from the common room, telling them little anecdotes about people as they went on their way.

"That girl there, with the bow in her hair, she's probably not coming back after this year. Her brother died in an accident over the summer, so she's going to have to marry.

"That boy with spiky hair you met last night, Paulie Gamp, is one of the best duellists in the school. Some of the curses he knows are so brilliant!

"That Ravenclaw girl there, she's called Sapphire Li. She's the Head Girl this year. Thankfully Terrence doesn't have to put up with one of the Gryffindors. In my first year that happened. There was a Slytherin Head Girl, and a Gryffindor Head Boy. It was terrible, they completely refused to speak to each other by the end of the second term!" She kept up a near constant patter about those students they passed on their way into the hall.

Harry looked to the ceiling as he and Draco sat with the other first years, it was a clear blue with just a few wispy clouds making their way across. He groaned at the sight of yet more rich food, taking only a small bowl of cereal to eat, with a glass of warm milk. On his left, Blaise ate like a pig, his plate piled high, food constantly in his mouth. To his right, the food on Draco's plate was a relatively small amount, which he ate with dignity and then reached back out for second and third helpings.

As they ate, Terrence Higgs appeared next to them, a pile of parchments in his hands. He peered at them with a frown on his face.

"I don't really know any of you, so I'm just going to call names out. Grab the timetable if it's yours." He looked down to the first one. "Millicent Bulstrode?" A slightly chubby girl leaned forwards a little nervously and took the proffered parchment. He handed out several more before reaching Draco's, which he handed to the blonde haired boy without saying the name. He did the same with Harry, after winking and looking at the Gryffindor hourglass above the head table, which read negative one hundred and fifty.

Harry unrolled the parchment with some trepidation. He already knew that he had Potions last lesson, thanks to Professor Snape, but other than that, he had no idea.

_Monday (Week One)_

_ Transfiguration_

_ Defence Against The Dark Arts_

_ Charms_

_ History Of Magic_

_ Potions_

_ Potions_

Harry grimaced at his list - it seemed he'd be having a lot of double lessons, and some of the subjects he hadn't even _heard _of! There hadn't been any books listed for Magical Sports, nor any for Domestic Magic. Marcus Flint appeared over his left shoulder.

"Oooh, Transfiguration first thing! See that woman up there with the bun and the glasses? That's McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor, and Transfiguration Professor." Marcus paused to point, smirking as all of the first years raised their heads to look. "She's strict, so behave in her lessons, and for Merlin's sake do her homework assignments. If she takes points from Slytherin, she'll take _loads_. What's next?" He looked round.

"Defence Against The Dark Arts," a girl said after a moment. Harry vaguely remembered her being sorted the previous night, and rather fancied her name began with a 'P'.

"Right, that'll be Quirrell, then. Not really sure why he's here, he taught Muggle Studies a few years back, he was supposedly a bit of a pushover." Marcus frowned slightly.

"He's really nervy too. He's got a bad stutter," Harry offered. "I met him in the summer."

"Didn't know he stuttered," Marcus mused. "Could have some fun with that. What next?"

"Charms," said the pug-faced girl again.

"Great. You're a Parkinson, right?" The girl nodded in agreement.

"Pansy,"

"Okay then Pansy. Charms is fine. That's Flitwick, the really short one. You learn some good stuff there. He's the Head of Ravenclaw, too. Next?"

"History of Magic," Blaise cut in before Pansy.

"The most boring lesson you will _ever _have. Binns. He's not up there, he's a ghost. Your best bet is to find a way of getting notes from one of the Ravenclaws, or the Hufflepuffs. Nice nap time, though. Next?"

"Double Potions," Harry offered, without looking at his timetable. "With Professor Snape, right?"

"Bang on, Harry." Marcus grinned. "Potions is the best lesson you'll have, and I swear I'm not saying that just because our esteemed Professor is within earshot." Harry looked up in shock, to see the man himself smirking wryly at Marcus.

"Three points to Slytherin, Mister Flint." He turned to a group of fourth years nearby. "Messers Bole, and Derrick, you are excused from the first five minutes of your Potions lesson to show the first years to their Transfiguration lesson. Messers Warrington and Montague, you are excused from the last five minutes of your Potions lesson, to show the first years from Transfiguration to Defence Against The Dark Arts." He raised his voice, and looked down the length of the table. "You will _all _go and retrieve your books for your first two lessons immediately. First years will wait in the common room for their guides."

Slytherin House seemed to stand as one and moved en masse back down to the common room. Harry was grateful for the satchel Narcissa had suggested he buy; the books, plus parchment, ink and quills turned out to be fairly heavy. Draco urged him to put in their journals.

"In case we get set homework," he pleaded. Harry gave in, just so they could leave their dormitory.

Their lessons turned out to be pretty much as Marcus had suggested. Professor McGonagall was strict, Binns was boring and Flitwick was mildly amusing. Harry was slightly disappointed that they didn't learn spells in all of their lessons; only in Charms.

Quirrell, of course, stuttered his was through their lesson and set them an essay on whatever he'd been talking about. They had an essay each from Transfiguration and Charms, too. At lunch, all of the first years were fairly quiet. Harry talked to Blaise mostly, whose spirits seemed impossible to dampen. Draco sat quietly next to Harry, his nose buried in a Potions textbook.

"Hey, lighten up Draco! It's our first lesson, he's not expecting miracles!" Blaise waved a hand in front of Draco's book, and was met with a glare.

"He's exactly like my father. Of course he's expecting miracles from me." Draco snapped, eyes dropping to the book again almost immediately. Blaise snorted and commenced flicking peas at a Ravenclaw boy.

Ten minutes later, Terrence Higgs stood in front of them and hustled them all back to the common room to grab their potions books. He smirked at Draco while he feverently read.

"You sure you shouldn't be a Ravenclaw?" he joked. Draco raised a single blond eyebrow.

"Sure you want to ask that, Higgs?" Terrence blinked twice, slightly taken back by the expression on the younger boy's face.

"He really is your Godfather, isn't he?" Terrence said slowly, before turning to the rest of the Slytherin first years. "Okay guys, you're going to be a bit early for Potions, and you're going to have to find your own way back. Good news; Potions is in the dungeons, too, so you can't go too far wrong. Let's go!"

Keeping in mind Terrence's warning about finding their own way back, Harry kept a careful eye on the path they took, noting it down in his mind. It was easier, he thought, to keep track of things upstairs in the castle. In the dungeons there were no paintings (Camélia had said they allowed Slytherins to move about the dungeons unseen), and so no points of reference.

When they reached Potions, they quietly filed into the empty classroom at Terrence's gesture. Harry pulled Draco towards a table on the left side of the room. Draco looked up from his book long enough to complain that he hated the seats, before his eyes drifted back down to the book. Harry looked about the rest of the room, fairly confident that he could recall most things from the first couple of chapters of their Potions textbook.

The other Slytherins had followed his and Draco's lead, and sat on the left side of the classroom all together. Vince and Greg were paired together, as were Millicent and Pansy. Sophie and Natalia sat together happily, and Theo had sat with Daphne, leaving Blaise alone on the table in front of them.

"Hope we're with the Ravenclaws," Blaise smirked. "I bet I could get one of them to do it all for me. Did you see that bushy-haired one in History of Magic? She looked eager. What was her name again?"

"Granger," Harry hissed back. "Hermione Granger."

Almost as if Blaise's words were a catalyst, the Ravenclaws trouped in, pairing themselves up instinctively. Seeing the bushy-haired girl left on her own, Blaise called to her.

"It's Hermione, right?" He smiled toothily. "Why don't you partner me? My house apparently lacks taste. I'm Blaise." The girl gratefully took the seat next to him.

"Thank you," she squeaked nervously, setting her bulging satchel down next to her. Blaise looked back and smirked at Draco and Harry, waggling both eyebrows suggestively.

The classroom door suddenly swung wide open, crashing against the wall behind it. Their Potions Master strode in, robes billowing in his wake. He executed a sharp spin as he reached the front of the room, eyeing his silent students speculatively. With a wave of his wand, several cauldrons and vials appeared on the desk behind him.

"You are here to learn the art that is Potions. Make no mistake here, for this is by far the most dangerous, most punishing and least forgiving of all of the magics you will encounter here at Hogwarts. I will _not _tolerate fools in this lesson, so if you wish to misbehave you may leave my room immediately." The Professor paused for a moment, watching the students carefully. "Potions are probably the most underestimated portion of magic, for they seem to have little immediate use for the vast majority of the Wizarding public, however, those of you who will advance to the upper echelons of society will learn that Potions are possibly the most important branch of magic." The Professor moved gracefully behind his desk, and picked up a small, golden vial.

"This potion is called Felix Felicis, other wise known as 'liquid luck'. This amount will grant the drinker twenty-four hours of good luck." He moved to the next cauldron. "This is Pepper-Up potion, something that you will all become familiar with, as it cures most colds. This vial, while it may look like water is actually Veritaserum, which will force the drinker to tell the absolute truth." He explained his way through the next three potions, quickly garnering himself a spellbound audience. "This potion is used in conjunction with a spell, and can cause massive explosions…"

"Wow," breathed a tall Ravenclaw boy.

"Five points from Ravenclaw for speaking out of turn, Mister…" Snape peered at the top of the boy's parchment where he had already written his name and the date. "Goldstein. As you interrupted, I suppose that you already know all there is to know about Potions. Tell me, Mister Goldstein, the main property of Dittany?" he snapped.

"I… uh I don't know, Professor." The boy mumbled, ducking his head.

"Does anybody in this room know?" The Professor aimed his question at the entire room. Harry raised his hand slowly, noting that Draco and Daphne had raised their hands too. The girl next to Blaise, Hermione was nearly jumping out of her seat, her hand was that highly raised. "Ah, our resident celebrity." His voice caressed the word silkily, drawing it out into its requisite syllables. "Care to prove that you are more than just a pretty face, Mister Potter?"

"Dittany is generally used for healing purposes, Professor." Harry said, smirking slightly at the Ravenclaw boy. "It makes fresh skin grow over wounds, and if shredded can be used in the Wiggenweld Potion."

"Ten points to Slytherin, Mister Potter. You are correct." He addressed the rest of the class seamlessly. "If you do not already know what has just been said, I suggest you write it down. Today we will be learning about healing potions. I expect a roll of parchment on common ingredients found in healing potions and their properties for Friday's lesson. Now, copy down what is written on the board!" The Professor flicked his wrist at the blackboard behind him and lines of chalked writing appeared.

Their Potions lesson was soon over with all of the Slytherin's leaving smiling, and several Ravenclaws near tears. Hermione Granger was talking Blaise's ear off with her ideas for their essay.

"…and when I was in the library this morning I saw a book on…"

"It sounds amazing," Blaise interrupted her, his smile causing a flush across her cheeks. "Maybe we could work on it together? I could meet you in the library after dinner tomorrow night?"

"Sure," the girl flushed even more. "I'll see you then, I guess." She left the room, hurrying after her Ravenclaw classmates. Harry looked around, searching for a reason to stay behind, but the Professor cleverly sidestepped the issue.

"Mister Zabini, Mister Malfoy and Mister Potter please wait behind a moment." The other Slytherin's soon exited, looking back curiously at the three left behind.

"Professor?" Draco asked after a moment of silence.

"I have words for all of you. I'll start with Mister Zabini." Snape turned the full force of his impressive glare on Blaise who, to his credit, didn't even twitch. "I will expect two _different _essays from you and Miss Granger. At least two different sources, I will not have anyone, Slytherin or no, coasting through my class." He turned to Draco, gaze softening slightly. "Mister Malfoy, I regret not having a chance to say this to you privately, and I doubt that I have to say it at all, however it is important that it is said." He paused for breath, and ducked his head for a moment. "Whilst you are studying at this school, I will not be your godfather, is that understood? You will receive no special treatment from me, and you are expected to refer to me as Professor at all times, except during the holidays."

"As you wish, Professor." Draco bowed his head in deference to the elder man's wishes.

"Thank you, Mister Malfoy." The Potions Master responded. "And Mister Potter, I have the potions you require, please drink them immediately." Harry nodded his thanks, and hurriedly downed the three vials that on the Professor's desk.

"Potions?" Draco asked, looking from his friend to his godfather with narrowed eyes.

"For virility," His godfather said with a straight face, causing Blaise to snort with amusement. Draco cracked a mildly confused smirk, silently vowing to look up the word in a dictionary. "Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy, I think you should leave your friend here, I will walk him back to the common room after we have had a little chat."

Harry gave Blaise an encouraging smile as he left the room with Draco. They managed to find their way to the common room without incident, and when Blaise entered some time later he refused to speak about his conversation with their Head of House, but gave a note to Harry that was written in a spiky hand that Harry assumed was the Professor's.

_Mister Potter,_

_ You will attend a meeting on this coming Tuesday night in_

_ my office off the Slytherin Common Room at eight o'clock. You will_

_ not require any school items, and may attend in non-uniform. Failure to attend will carry __severe __consequences._

_ Professor S. Snape_

Harry pulled a wry grin at the short message that already seemed fairly typical of their Head of House's restrained manner.

That night, when he went to bed, Harry was almost completely sure that he'd fit in at this strange school called Hogwarts.


	10. Chapter 10: House Loyalties

- Chapter 10 -

House Loyalties

At the breakfast table the next morning, Harry couldn't stop yawning. He blinked at the schedule he held in his hand, his brain still half-asleep. Daphne Greengrass, sitting on his left, leaned over and peered at the day's lessons.

"Double Potions with the Ravenclaws again," she observed. "Then double Herbology. I got a Ravenclaw girl to show me her schedule yesterday, so I know we're with them for that. We're with the Gryffindors for Magical Sports for the last two though." Daphne's nose wrinkled in obvious distaste while, across from her, Vince listened in confusion.

"How'd you know that we were with the Gryffindors if you only asked a Ravenclaw?" he asked slowly, deep furrows etching themselves into his brow.

"Easy mate," Blaise chipped in from the right of Vince. "She found out that the Ravenclaws are with Hufflepuffs for sports." He paused to look sideways at Daphne. "Right?" Daphne nodded, absently taking a small bite of a single piece of dry toast.

Harry, on the other hand, was eating a lot more than he had the previous day; Professor Snape's potion seemed to have expanded his stomach to vast proportions and he couldn't get enough of the rich Hogwarts fare. Surreptitiously, he looked to his left and to his right, noting that Daphne wasn't the only person eating very little. A few pasty-looking second year students were nibbling on dry toast, as were two sickly third years, and a very skinny fourth year girl. Harry wondered if these were the people he'd meet in Snape's Tuesday meeting.

Before Harry had much more time to think about the meeting he'd been summoned to, Marcus Flint appeared beside them, a sly smirk on his face. He took a piece of bacon from a plate in the centre of the table and chewed it slowly before he spoke.

"Mmm, love the bacon here," he said almost dreamily, "although that's not what I came to say. I'm taking you lot to Potions this morning. Or rather I'm not. You guys lead, I'll just take charge if you get lost. Everybody has their Potions things, right?" The group of first years all nodded, and Marcus smiled lazily. "Great then, lead on!"

Draco and Harry led the way down into the dungeons, Harry just slightly behind Draco who seemed to have an almost instinctive grasp of the castle layout. It seemed most of the rest of the other Slytherin's were glad that Draco led the way, as even whilst being led, Greg tried to take a right turn that was merely an inset into the wall.

"I'll meet you lot outside the Great Hall to take you to Herbology," Marcus said as he left them outside of the room.

They had arrived at the Potions classroom with time to spare, leaving the class to sit in the dungeon classroom quietly talking to themselves. Blaise leaned back to Harry and Draco, a wide grin on his face.

"So, you two got any ideas for this essay?" If possible, Blaise's grin got even wider as he spoke. "Cause I'm betting that tonight, she'll help me do _anything_. I watched her at dinner last night, and breakfast this morning. None of the Ravenclaws really talk to her that much, she'll be putty in my hands!" He rubbed his hands together gleefully while Draco rolled his eyes.

"For Merlin's sake, Blaise, is it impossible to actually do the work yourself?" he said, voice dripping with disdain.

"Well, yeah." Blaise replied nonchalantly. "She'd probably help you guys, too, if you came with me tonight…?" Draco snorted in disgust, but Harry nodded at Blaise.

"Yeah, I'll go. Draco's already done half of his, but he wouldn't even let me look at the tiniest corner of it." Draco mock-scowled at his friend, but his features soon rearranged into their trademark sneer as the Ravenclaws entered the room. Hermione was one of the first to walk in, although she slowed down as she reached her table, apparently unwilling to sit down before Blaise dazzled her with a smile.

"Morning, Hermione," he told her cheerfully. "Potions first thing, isn't it great?" Hermione nodded hesitantly, chewing on her lower lip as Blaise began to speak again. "I wanted to ask you something, about tonight,"

"If… if you don't want to meet me, that's okay," Hermione stammered. "I can do it on my own!" she hissed fiercely.

"Of course I want to come," came Blaise's reassuring tones. "I was just wondering, would it be okay if Harry came too? I kind of promised him that we could help each other a bit. You don't mind, do you? I mean, three brains are better than one…" Hermione nodded along after a moment's thought, her eyes flicking back towards Harry.

"Sure, I guess," she acquiesced. Blaise smirked as he turned in his seat to meet Harry's eye.

"See, Harry? I told you Hermione wouldn't mind, she's pretty cool." Hermione's cheeks blushed red as she smiled, obviously inordinately pleased with the compliment, however insincere Harry suspected it was.

With a sudden bang that sent one small Ravenclaw girl jumping out of her seat, their Potions Master entered the room.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Miss… Brocklehurst, I believe?" The girl nodded shakily as she hastily climbed back onto the tall stool. Professor Snape continued to walk to the front of the classroom and once more whirled to face them. "Today, you will learn how to interpret the instructions in your textbooks." A snigger was heard from the Ravenclaw side of the room, Snape descended on the instigator, dark eyes flashing. "Your name, boy!" the dark man growled.

"Goldstein, sir." The boy said, with his chin thrown out. "Anthony Goldstein."

"Is there any particular reason you chose to disrupt this lesson, Mr Goldstein?" His voice was pitched low, and Draco winced at the menace in it. He nudged Harry, and wrote on the corner of his parchment.

_ This is gonna go bad. I feel sorry for the kid._

"I just think it's a bit stupid that you're going to explain it all to us. I read through the textbook, how difficult can it be to 'stir in a clockwise direction'?" Anthony grinned at his friend, who ducked his head and looked away.

"In that case, Mister Goldstein, you will have no problem in describing to me the differences between slicing, dicing, chopping and dissecting." There was a moment of silence. "Start talking." Another beat later and the Potion's Master's face twisted into a smirk. "Ten points from Ravenclaw, and detention with me on Thursday after dinner." He turned to the rest of the room. "Do any of the rest of you have any ideas?" Two hands raised; Draco, and Hermione. He nodded at Draco and quirked his eyebrow.

"Slicing would be cutting an ingredient into fine, equally sized slivers, dicing would be to cut an ingredient into equally sized cubes, chopping would be to cut an ingredient into fairly regular rectangular shapes and dissecting would refer to an ingredient with an outer layer, in which case it is necessary to cut into the outer layer to reach the useful part of the ingredient." Draco let out all of the information in what seemed like one breath, somehow managing to convey his eagerness in a distant tone of voice. Harry inwardly marvelled at the talent.

It didn't feel like long to the Slytherin students before the lesson was over, and they left the room, heading as one towards the Great Hall. Harry noticed several Ravenclaws following them, obviously having no idea where Herbology was held. Marcus was waiting for them, a pleased smile on his face which only grew as they approached.

"So, who got in Snape's good books this morning? Someone turn in an essay early or something?" At the group's dumbfounded looks he explained. "Slytherin is up thirty points, no other teacher goes as far as Snape. He's really down with house loyalty and all that. So, who got the points?"

"I got twenty," Draco said proudly, jerking forward as Marcus clapped him on the back.

"I got five," Daphne told Marcus with a large smile, "and so did Pansy."

"That's good going guys. Come on, Herbology's in the greenhouses, we've got a bit of a trek." They set off, leaving through the main doors in the Entrance Hall, and walking across the grounds. Harry and Draco walked just ahead of Blaise, who was still being dogged by Hermione Granger. The two of them shared sniggers as the Ravenclaw girl peppered Blaise with everything she had read about Herbology.

"You can get some really dangerous plants too; I read about one that we learn this year, called the Devil's Snare. There's a rhyme about how to defeat it, too, but I expect the Professor will tell us all about that later…"

Herbology was fairly boring, with the added bonus that they all got covered in mud from an odd plant that whirled mud around. The Slytherin students all headed back to their common room to clean up before they surfaced for lunch.

Nearly everyone was excited for their last lesson, despite it being with the Gryffindors. For the first term of the year, at least, they would focus on flying, and the sport of Quidditch, a second year told them. At Harry's confused expression all of the first year boys, and Millicent Bulstrode banded together to explain the complex sport. When Marcus Flint appeared behind them, they were midway through the most mind-boggling explanation that Harry had ever come across. Marcus sighed, and began his own explanation.

"It's a lot easier than these guys make out," Marcus said soothingly. "There are four balls. The Quaffle is a largish red ball, and three Chasers from each team battle to try to catch it and throw it through the three hoops on the other team's side. Each time they get the Quaffle through a hoop they score ten points. To stop them, there's a Keeper for each team who tries to stop the Chasers scoring. At the same time, we have two Bludgers. These are big black balls that are enchanted to attack players, so we have two Beaters who carry bats to hit the Bludgers away from the players. Now the last ball is the Snitch. This ball has wings, and it's smaller than your fist. Whoever catches it gets one-hundred-and-fifty points for their team, so they usually win. Make sense?" Harry nodded slowly.

"I think so. What position do you play?" Harry asked Marcus, remembering the older boy was the Quidditch Captain this year.

"Chaser. Now get a move on, we've got a flying lesson to get to." With some good natured grumbling Marcus ribbed a pair of third years into taking the group of first years all the way out to the Quidditch pitch where their first lesson was to be held.

They arrived before most of the Gryffindors, and found their Professor already awaiting them on the pitch. She unlocked a small shed to the far side of the pitch, and with a flick of her wand and a muttered word brooms flew out of the wooden shack and lined up neatly on the grass.

"Everybody go and stand by a broom. The latecomers can have the worse brooms," she announced to the startled group. Harry ended up with a sleek looking broom, with Draco on his left and Daphne on his right. He grinned nervously at her.

"I hate flying," Daphne told him in an undertone. "I really, really don't like heights." Harry gulped, and told her he hoped for the best for both of them. The missing Gryffindors appeared and griped about the bad quality of brooms they had gotten, but a sharp look from their teacher shut them up.

"I am Madam Hooch, your flying instructor. You all have a broomstick, correct?" The group nodded, the redheaded Weasley scowled sullenly as he did so. "Place your right hand over your broom and say 'Up'!"

"UP!" Everyone shouted loudly. Harry's and Draco's jumped into their hands instantly, but they were among the minority. It took the chubby Gryffindor, Longbottom another five minutes to get his to lift off the ground. Madam Hooch instructed them how to mount their brooms, and Harry and Draco laughed when she told a protesting Gryffindor boy that he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Finnegan, you will do as you are told!" she had shouted, causing more guffaws from the Slytherins. "Now, when I blow my whistle kick off. Don't go more than a few feet into the air, and then come back down. Three, two - OI!"

Neville Longbottom, apparently afraid of being unable to fly had shot off into the air. Harry snorted with laughter as the boy's white face became visible when he looked down. It took only a few seconds before the boy gasped and fell off. Draco wasn't alone in wincing at the boy who had fallen more than ten feet.

"AUGH!" screamed Longbottom. "It hurts!" Blaise ducked his head to hide his smile, but Daphne and Harry simultaneously turned white.

"I'm taking Longbottom to the Hospital Wing. Nobody move!" Hooch screeched, gently pulling Neville to his feet and pulling him away. As soon as they were out of site, Draco wandered over to where Neville had fallen.

"Wow, I think he's left a dent in the floor!" Draco joked, before stooping to pick something up. "Looks like he dropped something. Is this a Remembrall?" He held up the glass ball for the others to see.

"Oi! Leave it alone Malfoy!" The Weasley boy called out. "That's Neville's!"

"Make me leave it alone." Draco said petulantly, before throwing it towards Harry, who snatched it from the air. "I think we have a new game! Throw it, Harry!" Harry threw the ball to Vince, who threw it to Greg, who threw it to Blaise, who mounted his broom and lifted into the air.

"On your brooms, or no game!" Blaise taunted, eyes challengingly fixed on Harry. Draco was in the air first, flying towards Blaise while Harry mounted his broom again.

Harry kicked off hard against the ground, and all of a sudden he was three feet in the air, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. Wind rushed at him, sweeping his robes out behind him and making his hair look even more like a birds nest. It only took a moment for him to get his bearings before he flew higher, darting to catch the Remebrall as Draco threw it to him.

Harry laughed as he threw it back. Flying was exhilarating. Nobody had to teach him how to fly, he just knew, almost instinctively. Leaning to the side would cause him to swerve, and leaning back would make him go higher. If he pointed the broom downwards he'd streak back to the ground, and if he flattened himself to the broom he'd speed up. The three boys circled higher and higher as they threw the ball around, causing the spectators on the pitch below to ooh! and ah! at their antics.

Blaise fumbled the most, and Draco very nearly missed one, but Harry was in his element. No matter how hard the glass ball was thrown, or where he was in comparison to it, he could catch it.

"Get this one then, Harry!" Blaise called, throwing the ball up and in a high arc. It spiralled downwards as Harry was watching. Harry pulled the nose of his broom to face the grass, and followed it, gaining speed. He could feel the wind rushing past his face, his left arm outstretched as he neared the ground. A foot and a half from the earth he caught it, bringing his broom back level as he did so to a spontaneous round of applause that suddenly stopped. Harry looked up in confusion, only to see the obsidian eyes of his Head of House.

"Professor Snape," Harry smiled as charmingly as he could at the older Slytherin man. "what a surprise to see you here!" The Potion Master's mouth twitched to the side slightly, a sign that Harry sincerely hoped meant amusement.

"Off the broom, Mister Potter, and follow me." Snape's voice held no emotion, amusement or otherwise. He looked towards the rest of the class, noting that both Draco and Blaise had dismounted, and seemed to be trying to blend in with the other students. "Miss Greengrass, you will accompany us." Daphne paled further, and dropped her head as she followed in the stormy Professor's wake. Harry touched her shoulder, consolingly.

"Don't worry, you haven't done anything. I'm about to get decapitated." This raised only a half smile on Daphne's scared face, but she gripped onto Harry's hand as they walked through the castle. Harry was surprised when, instead of walking down into the dungeons, to Snape's office they were instead taken to the Charms corridor. His brow furrowed in confusion as Snape knocked once and stepped into a classroom.

"Professor Flitwick, I need Flint. _Now, _please." The first years heard their professor growl. Daphne squeezed Harry's hand more tightly, seemingly even more afraid of the elder boy. "Bring your things Mister Flint, you won't be returning to the lesson."

Marcus Flint exited the room slightly ahead of the Potions Master, a confused expression on his face as he looked at the two younger students. His keen eyes flicked between them, narrowing at each pass.

"Professor?" He turned to their Head of House, who was already striding back down the corridor.

"My office," was all the stoic man would say. Marcus shrugged and set off, giving Daphne a gentle push when she stood still. Seeing her terrified face, he softened and gave her a hand to hold too, so she walked between Harry and Marcus. At Professor Snape's pace, they were across the castle in what seemed like mere moments, being hurriedly ushered into the office. Snape gestured for them to sit, and he took a deep breath, about to speak when Daphne interrupted.

"Please sir, I didn't do anything! I was just in the class!" She trembled like a leaf, clutching desperately at her robes. The professor, much like Marcus had, gentled at the young girl, albeit less visibly.

"Miss Greengrass, you are not here for punishment." The tall man stood, and edged round the desk, bringing himself to eye-level with Daphne. "This morning, a house-elf discovered a note and a salve in your rooms. The house elves are instructed to bring any potions they find to me, to ensure that nothing harmful gets into the school. Do you know to which salve I am referring?" Daphne nodded hesitantly.

"My Mother sent it to me yesterday, sir." Daphne looked down at her shoes as she spoke, refusing to make eye contact with the Professor.

"Miss Greengrass, I would like you to come to a meeting I hold every Tuesday night, for students such as yourself. I hope you will attend." He bent his head further, to meet here eyes still, and Harry swore he could actually _see _the compassion there. "There will be other students from your year there too, Miss Greengrass, you won't be alone." He looked up to Harry, and nodded slightly towards Daphne.

"Yeah, I'll be there, Daph," Harry told his friend. "You can come with me, if you want to." Daphne smiled up at Harry and nodded.

"You may go back to the common room now, Miss Greengrass. Use that entrance there," Professor Snape pointed at the door Harry had used the previous morning to enter the office, that led straight into the common room. Daphne quickly exited the room, throwing curious glances at the boys left inside. Once she had left, Harry gulped in anticipation of his punishment, however Snape passed him over for Marcus. "Mr Flint, I believe we are in need of a discussion about your new Seeker, are we not?"

"Yes, Professor. I had hoped to organise trials for the team for the weekend after this. Do you have a suggestion as to a player, perhaps?" Marcus seemed very nonchalant, taking being pulled out of Charms in his stride.

"Yes, I do. When I went to fetch Miss Greengrass from her class this afternoon, I saw a very interesting spectacle, did I not, Mister Potter?" Both the Potions Master and the Quidditch Captain looked at him expectantly.

"Well, I didn't want it to smash, and Blaise is a bad throw." Harry shrugged half-heartedly. "It's not like flying's _hard_." Marcus's eyes opened wide.

"How long have you been flying for, Harry?" he asked curiously.

"Well, I haven't. Not before today." Harry looked between the two shocked faces. "It's not my fault; the Dursleys didn't exactly like anything 'not normal' so-"

"You dropped like a stone from thirty feet and executed a flawless Yvonnian balk to catch a clear glass ball smaller than your fist, _your first time on a broom_?" The professor seemed incredulous, and indeed, his mouth hung open.

"What's an Yvonnian balk?" Harry asked, but was ignored in favour of Marcus's ecstatic cheer.

"We're gonna win!" He punched a fist into the air, then looked pleadingly to Snape. "You can't give him a detention, he'll need all the practice we can get to fit in with the rest of the team. Can you convince Dumbledore to bend the rules on first-years playing?"

"For the famous Mister Potter? I'm sure he'll do anything we want. Mister Flint, I think we may be in with a chance." The sonorous voice sounded almost gleeful. "I will go and talk with the Headmaster now, you two go to the common room."

Harry gladly escaped into the deserted common room. Only Daphne was present, sitting curled up in a small cluster of chairs near a fireplace. Her blonde head lifted as they entered, and she smiled softly at them. Harry ambled over to her, and leaned over the back of the chair she sat on.

"So, guess who's gonna be the new Slytherin Seeker?" he asked with a sly grin. Daphne jumped up out of her seat and embraced him happily.

"Oh, Harry, that's amazing!" For a second or two, Harry froze, unsure of what to do. People didn't _hug _him. He was _Harry Potter. _With a Herculean effort, Harry's hands came around Daphne's back, and he patted her awkwardly.

"Thanks, Daph," Harry gently tugged Daphne away from him, and sat on the arm of her chair, hoping the closeness wouldn't result in more unwanted intimacies. Thankfully, Marcus appeared in front of them, having changed out of his uniform.

"You two should go put on some normal clothes, and some decent robes too. Seeing as you've managed to avoid your lessons, you should do some school work too. I might even help you a little too, if you're lucky." Marcus winked encouragingly and nodded towards the stairs that led down to the dorms. Harry smiled wryly as he got up and did as he was told. He took out his Potions book and some parchment; after a quick perusal of his ongoing homework-journal, he found it to be the essay due soonest.

Harry and Daphne worked fairly well together, getting what Harry thought to be the bare bones of the essay - he was sure that Professor Snape would be demanding - leaving him only a small amount of library research to do. Daphne had been working on some notes for their Charms essay, which Harry had surreptitiously been copying. Marcus appeared to have noticed the subterfuge from his seat in the armchair across from them, and raised an eyebrow speculatively at Harry.

It didn't seem like long before Slytherins began to troupe into the Common Room, the noise increasing exponentially with each arriving student. Soon enough, Harry had to put his work away as the other first years crowded round he and Daphne.

"Harry, are you alright?" Pansy asked, seating herself on the arm of his chair. "I was so worried about you!" Harry stood as Pansy leaned in closer to him - he'd had enough _hugs _for one day.

"I'm fine. In fact, I'm better than fine. I'm going to be on the Quidditch team - Seeker." Harry's chin rose about an inch, and a satisfied smirk played across his face. Pansy was the first to congratulate him, taking her chance to leap up and throw her arms around him, Blaise soon followed, ruffling his hair. Draco thumped him on the back enthusiastically, and Harry's back nearly buckled when Vince and Greg did the same. Millicent seemed happy, too, but restrained herself to merely patting him on the shoulder gently. Theo didn't say anything until Harry had been mostly released, settling for a more sedate, "Well done," and a small smile.

As they left for dinner, his friends all around him still patting his back, Harry thought that hugs might not be so bad. They all quieted when they reached the Great Hall; the high number of teachers clearly affecting their rambunctious high.

"Oi, Potter!" called a coarse voice from the Gryffindor table. "What're you still doing here? Not been expelled yet?" Harry paused mid stride and turned to face his attacker - Ronald Weasley. Harry smirked and stepped closer to the boy, speaking fairly quietly so the boy would have to lean forwards to hear him.

"Leave? Why would I ever want to leave, Weasley?" Harry's tone of wry amusement seemed to permeate through the red-haired buffoon, who opened his mouth in confusion. "After all, where would the Slytherin Quidditch team be without their seeker?" Harry walked away towards his friends at the Slytherin table, leaving Weasley spluttering and gaping behind him.

Harry slid into his seat between Draco and Blaise; it seemed that neither particularly wanted to sit next to the other and Harry got the impression he was working as a buffer between the studious Draco and the more fun-loving Blaise.

"Hey, Harry, you still coming to the library after this?" Blaise asked between bites. Harry nodded in reply, absorbed as he was with his own food. He grunted as he felt a smaller foot press onto his.

"Oh, I can't stay too late, though. Me and Daph have to go see Professor Snape at eight," Harry hastily amended, seeing the blonde girl's raised eyebrow. Blaise looked between the two of them speculatively.

"Why don't you come with us, too, Daphne? Bet you've got stuff to look up in the library, right?" Daphne looked over at Pansy and Millicent for a moment, before nodding at Blaise.

"I'll come. I need to get some references for that Potions essay, and I need to look up a few things for the Charms one, too."

The three Slytherins set off for the library as soon as Harry had finished eating (ever since Snape's miracle-potion, his capacity for food storage had grown considerably), finding Hermione Granger already there, buried in books at a table hidden behind a set of shelves.

Blaise carefully seated himself in the chair next to hers, motioning for Harry and Daphne to do the same. They quietly took out their school books before Blaise winked at them and coughed slightly. The bushy-haired girl's head snapped upright at the noise that came from approximately a foot from her left ear. She looked into the grinning face of Blaise Zabini, and at a small cough from Harry, noticed he and Daphne sitting at her table, too.

"Hello," she said, a pink tinge creeping across her cheeks. "How long have you all been here?"

"Hours," moaned Blaise dramatically. "It feels like we've never been anywhere else our entire lives, and you didn't even notice we were here! I feel so unloved!" Hermione looked almost stricken, until Daphne spoiled Blaise's game by snorting in a very unladylike manner. Harry took pity on both girls, and explained quickly.

"We only just got here, Blaise is just being, well, he's just being Blaise. Do you want to know how I first met him?" Harry's smirk widened as Blaise's eyes widened almost comically. "I'll tell it some other time. I need to go get some references for that Potions essay."

"Harry, my man, you need to actually start the essay first you know?" Blaise interjected. Harry held up his mostly-completed essay in way of response. Hermione looked mildly impressed.

They worked fairly quietly, the most conversation being between Blaise and Hermione.

"Hermione, would I be right in saying this?"

"Hermione, could you just look over this paragraph for me?"

"Hermione, you couldn't let me see your essay, could you? I just have no idea how to organise this, I'm so terrible."

Harry and Daphne were both hard pressed to avoid smirking at Blaise's antics. It was clearly obvious to them that Blaise was taking the Ravenclaw for a fool, and although Harry was sure that their Potions Master would find the two extra sources he had asked for in Blaise's essay, he was equally sure that those sources would be found by Hermione.

Daphne prodded Harry at a quarter to the hour, and they made their excuses, racing back down to the common room, then hesitating before knocking on the door to Professor Snape's office.

"Enter," called his deep voice, and the door swung open as if propelled by an invisible hand. Harry was grateful to see that he and Daphne weren't the only ones who had been ordered to attend. The office seemed to have expanded, leaving room for a small circle of chairs. The small dark-haired Olivia that had been with Marcus on the train sat in between two of the seventh year girls Harry and Draco had met two nights previously, Harry seemed to remember Terrence introducing them as Lucy Chambers and Jess Patel.

Harry guessed that Lucy would be the girl with straight brown hair and blue eyes, and that Jess would be the one who wore her dark hair in a single braid down her back. As she was turned away from the door, Harry could see that her hair was nearly long enough to sit on, and had beads woven into it. Daphne seemed enthralled with the intricate beauty of the other girls hair, and gladly went to sit next to Jess when she offered.

Harry sat next to two boys a few years older than him, who introduced themselves as Graham Montague and Adrian Pucey. A second year slipped into the room, closely followed by one of the seventh years that Harry had met before, but the name of the boy escaped him. He nodded at Snape, who stood from his seat behind his desk and sat in the only remaining place.

"I know that none of you wish to be here, but you will attend this meeting every week until I deem you fit to leave. This is not just in regards to your physical health, but in regards to your mental state, too. As we have already included two first years this week, we will start with introductions by age." The Professor looked to his right, where the seventh year boy sat.

"Josef Yaxley," he said slightly sullenly.

"Jess Chambers," the brown haired girl spoke next.

"Lucy Patel," was the girl with the braids.

"Adrian Pucey," came next, followed by,

"Graham Montague." Next came the two second years,

"Laurence Bonner,"

"Olivia Mayfield." Harry jerked as he realised he and Daphne were next. After a moment of silence Harry spoke up.

"Harry Potter," both of the second year's eyes goggled, they being the only people in the room Harry had not previously met.

"Daphne Greengrass," Daphne trembled out. Lucy Patel put a comforting hand over hers as their Professor began speaking again.

"Well, I'm sure we all gained a wealth of information about each other from that," the man said sardonically. "I'm going to cast a charm on each of you individually, it will give us a body scan and show me exactly what Potions you need. Youngest first, which actually means you, Mr Potter. You and Miss Greengrass spoke in the wrong order." He raised an eyebrow at Harry, who stood without comment.

"_Aperio vulnero_." Once more an apparition of Harry's body appeared in front of him. Harry made sure to look at it carefully as the Potions Master turned it. He could now see much more clearly the patches of red and orange, for despite the potions he had taken yesterday, there were still several patches of the fiery colours. He noticed that his throat was now blue, as were his lungs and stomach, obviously the Professor had begun to heal his innards first. He looked up at the forbidding man and smiled slightly.

"Better than last time, at least," Harry said, just barely managing to keep a steady voice and straight face. Inside, he was partly recoiling in horror, and partly perversely proud. He was sure that Professor Snape had seen many of the apparitions before, but Harry doubted that many had shocked him.

"Yes, Mister Potter, it is," the professor acquiesced with a slight nod. "But you still have a fairly extensive course of potions to complete." Harry nodded in return. Snape moved over to his desk and wrote a few lines in a leather notebook that sat on the polished wooden-surface. "Miss Greengrass, please stand."

As the Potions Master ran through the other students, and their ghostly bodies, Harry was free to observe. He noticed that most of the students hadn't been injured badly, nearly all of the injuries were fairly superficial. The four girls' faces had all been completely clear, and their stomachs were 'compacted' as the Professor had mumbled to himself. _Like mine, _Harry thought pensively.

Josef Yaxley's ghost-body was the worst of the rest of the room, although Harry was sure that his own had had the most red parts. Although, if the Professor healed the students at the start of each year, all of Josef's red areas would have occurred during the summer holidays. Harry's eleven years of built up injury had produced only a few more red areas than those of Josef's previous six weeks. The group seemed to collectively suck in a deep breath - it seemed that Josef's injuries weren't always so bad…

"Jo, what happened?" Lucy Patel asked tentatively. Josef clenched his jaw and turned his face away from her.

"I told him that I wouldn't marry you," Josef said shortly, "so he decided to beat me until I accepted." His eyes flicked back at her, pain evident in them. "It's okay though, you're safe, I promise." Lucy almost flew at Josef, her arms wrapping tightly around him.

"Oh, Jo! You should have just agreed, I don't like to see you hurt! We could have managed. We would have managed." She buried her face in his chest, being too small to reach any higher. When she pulled away from him, it was to brush tears from her cheeks.

"But Lucy, why can't you marry Josef?" Asked her friend, with a puzzled look upon her face. "I would have thought you two to make a good match." The boys sitting with Harry nodded along in agreement.

"I am already betrothed," Lucy said dramatically, "to a man that my family would find below me. His family doesn't have as long a line of Wizarding history as does ours." Her tone of voice belied her contempt for the opinion of her family. Professor Snape cleared his throat, and both Josef and Lucy jumped back into their seats.

"Thank you, Josef, for sharing your summer with us. You remind me of a point I would like to make immediately. Watch." The professor pointed his wand at the door, and traced the edges of it, murmuring strange words as he did so. The door frame glowed orange for a few moments, then returned to its previous wooden status. "Once you exit through that door, all of the secrets you have heard will make themselves hidden inside your mind. This means that you won't be able to recall information not pertaining to yourself, and that even if by some miracle you can, you will be unable to communicate what you have heard. Not that any of you would betray the loyalties of your fellow house members, I am sure. Now, the next speaker would be Miss Chambers. If you will?"

The rest of the evening progressed in much the same manner, with everyone sharing their stories of their summers, or of their lives, in the cases of the first years. Harry was the last. He took a deep breath and forced himself to stand, and to show no fear. All of the others had spoken, and he steadfastly refused to look weak in front of them.

"Well, I guess you all know me, I'm told I'm pretty famous in the Wizarding World. I wouldn't know. I was raised by Muggles since I was about a year old. I found out that I was a Wizard on the thirty first of July this summer. That's when I found out how my parents really died, too. I've been lied to my entire life. I was raised by my Aunt and Uncle, and they hated having me.

"I slept in a cupboard under the stairs, and every time I did something wrong, they would beat me. Every time something in the house went wrong, they would beat me. Every time they had a bad day, they would beat me. Every time they were bored, they would beat me. My magic always healed me though, so I would never have a bruise for more than a few hours, and broken bones were gone within a day. Umm, I guess that's about it." Harry sat down, still slightly unnerved by the eyes following him.

"Thank you, Mister Potter." The Potions Master stood as Harry sat, and turned to his desk. "I have some potions and salves for all of you. You will be expected to come to me at some point every day for more potions as I see fit, is that understood? Mister Potter, as you already took a batch of Potions this morning, you will have to come back in the morning for your second dose, and keep taking them in the mornings. Once you've taken your Potions, you may leave."

Harry was the second out of the office, letting one of the older boys walk through the spelled door to ascertain its safety first. When he entered the common room, he was surprised to see that it was nearly empty. A glance at a clock on the mantle piece showed why - it was nearly midnight! Josef stepped through the doorway after Harry and he immediately took charge.

"First through fifth years, bed now. If you're in sixth or seventh, you can stay up if you're actually that stupid." Josef harried all of the younger years left in the common room down the stairs, including Harry. When he reached his dormitory, Harry yawned, and pulled open the curtain to his bed, intending to get right in, but yelped in shock at the blonde head of hair that was already sleeping in his bed.

"Harry?" Draco mumbled sleepily, his eyes scrunched. "s'that you?" Harry sat next to Draco on the bed, and rubbed his hand along the other boy's arm.

"You're freezing, you know?" Harry whispered gently.

"Didn't mean to fall asleep. I was gonna wait for you to come back." Draco's eyes came open slowly, and he yawned loudly. "What've you been doing?"

"I had to see Professor Snape," Harry carefully avoided the topic of what he'd been doing. "Now come on, you need to get back to your own bed." Harry half tugged Draco into a sitting position, with his legs hanging off the bed. The blonde boy blearily put his feet down on the stone floor, then brought them back up underneath him.

"S'cold." He whined petulantly. "Can I stay? I had a nightmare." Harry smiled gently at his friend, who looked so small and lost in the dead of night.

"Sure you can, Draco." Harry sighed. "I'll be right back, I just need to get changed." By the time Harry had gotten back to the bed, Draco was already asleep again. He wrestled to get the blankets out from underneath Draco, and covered the blonde tenderly. For a moment, Harry considered getting in next to him, but after a moment's contemplation, Harry crawled into Draco's empty bed. It didn't take long for Harry to fall to sleep, glad of the soft bed, even if it wasn't his own.


	11. Chapter 11: Cerberus

- Chapter 11 -

Cerberus

"Augh! Get off me you idiot!" Harry jerked awake at the screams coming from his left. Harry jumped out of bed and twitched the curtains aside only to fall to the floor with laughter at the sight. It seemed that Blaise had taken it upon himself to wake Harry. By tickling him. Of course, it wasn't actually Harry in the bed, but that thought hadn't deterred Blaise.

Vince and Greg appeared almost simultaneously, their heads tilting in opposite directions as they tried to work out what was going on. Harry smiled up at them, content with his seat on the floor.

"Hey, isn't that your bed, Harry?" Greg asked. Harry nodded in response, which seemed to satisfy Greg.

"Harry," Vince asked with a sly smirk, "why are you watching Draco and Blaise in bed together?" Harry could feel the blush running up his cheeks.

"Umm… well… You're watching them, too!" Harry retorted lamely.

"I think a better question is 'What are those two doing?' I mean, seriously, with the way Draco's screaming I thought it was rape at first." Theo had appeared on Harry's right side, next to Vince. Draco and Blaise sat up immediately.

"Hey! I'm not raping him!" Blaise interrupted.

"Yeah, there's no rape here!" Draco seconded.

"Draco said yes then?" Theo asked Harry innocently. Harry shrugged noncommittally.

"Wouldn't know, they were already going at it by the time I got up. I think I might need to burn those sheets though - I dread to think what's been going on there."

"Nah, just throw them in the lake," Vince suggested.

"With those two in it!" Greg added mischievously. At this, Draco shot off the bed.

"You're not throwing me in the lake!" He stuck his tongue out at the larger boy before dashing away to get changed. Harry stood with his head tilted at the boys around his bedside, before shrugging and taking a set of clothes to the bathroom with him. By the time he had left the bathroom, everyone else was either dressed (or half-dressed, as was the case with Blaise, who seemed to have developed a distinct dislike of his school shirt).

As they had the previous morning, the boys all headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast together. Just as they were about to leave the common room, Harry hung back.

"I forgot my Astronomy textbook," Harry moaned. "You guys go ahead, I'll walk up with someone older." Harry darted back down the stairs to his dormitory, praying that Draco at least would have taken the hint and left.

"Come on, let's go then," Harry heard Draco's voice. "He can get to the Great Hall fine."

"We should wait," Greg yawned.

"Not right to leave him," Vince agreed. Harry cursed inwardly.

"I'm hungry! Can't we just go?" Blaise, this time. "Harry'll be fine. Boy-Who-Lived isn't gonna die on his way to _breakfast."_

"Yeah, don't you want some of those sausages too?" Draco's voice was infused with a happy smile that Harry could tell was false from ten paces.

"Mmmm," If Harry had to guess, Vince was drooling. "Let's go get sausages." He waited another minute for them to leave, and then he headed upstairs, straight to Snape's office. He knocked twice, and was told to enter after a moment.

"Your potions are on the desk," came a weary groan as he opened the door. Harry stifled a snort at the sight of his Potions Professor with his head on the desk.

"Thank you, sir." Harry said, dropping his voice at the realization the older man was flinching. "Are you okay, Professor?"

"I haven't been brought coffee yet," Professor Snape ground out. "Go to the Great Hall, Mister Potter. I shall be perfectly fine once the coffee arrives, I assure you." Harry all but ran back out of the room, he'd seen his Uncle in the same sort of mood, and it had never done him any good to stay within range of the man's fist.

Harry tagged along with a group of third years to walk to the Great Hall. They'd heard about him being picked for the Quidditch team, and were quick to give their congratulations. Harry smiled pleasantly, and basked in their thanks until they reached the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, where he gratefully took the seat between Draco and Blaise.

Harry had to stifle a smirk at the looks his two friends shared. Draco and Blaise quite clearly didn't get on very well, but it seemed that they stood each other for Harry's benefit. Draco thought that Blaise was too rowdy and immature, while Blaise thought Draco was stuffy with 'a wand up his arse'. Harry had been hard pressed not to snigger at that comment. He could see that in some ways both of them were right. Blaise was loud and childish, and Draco did study a lot and his homework was always done, but there was nothing wrong with either of them.

He sighed slightly as both Blaise and Draco started talking to him simultaneously and concentrated on filling his plate as high as it would go, settling for nods and murmured agreement to both of them. It seemed like it was going to be a long, long day.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Soon, September had slipped into October, and Harry had grown used to the routines of Hogwarts. They had learnt several useful spells, and charms, and many more frivolous ones. Draco, with his endless studying was usually the first from their House to complete tasks, but whenever they had classes with the Ravenclaws, Hermione Granger almost always had him beat. Blaise laughed at Draco's furious scowl each time, and left Harry playing mediator after Herbology, Magical Theory and Potions. Harry was just grateful that History of Magic, the only other lesson they shared with the Ravenclaws was pretty much a lecture with no class participation, or else he'd never have a minute where Blaise and Draco could be trusted next to each other.

All of the other first years, and a few older students, had been tutoring Harry in the ways of the Wizarding World. Marcus Flint had volunteered to explain Wizarding sports - a veiled excuse to spend more time having Harry think through Quidditch strategy. Camélia and Lucy Patel were drilling the etiquette into his brain, Harry dreaded the weekends when they forced him to dance. The only other seventh year helping him was Terence Higgs, who spent a fair portion of his free time getting Harry to speak and think like a Pureblooded wizard. Harry's fellow first years all chipped in where they could. Vince and Greg gave Harry a thorough education in Wizarding sweets, helped along by Narcissa Malfoy, who owled Draco a 'care package' every week. Theo went through Wizarding games, like Gobstones and exploding snap. Draco, Blaise and Pansy showed him scrolls and scrolls full of family trees of the most prominent Wizarding families, while Daphne, Millicent and Vera went through recent Wizarding history, including the deaths of his parents.

October had sped away thanks to the scant hours of free time that Harry had, and almost without him thinking about it, it was Halloween - or, more rightly Samhain, as Terence told him. The vast majority of the school was full of excitement, but Harry was feeling rather subdued. On Halloween night it would be the tenth anniversary of his parents' death - the Daily Prophet (which Harry now took on Camélia's advice) was having a field day with remembrances from the defeat of Voldemort, and a reporter hoping to speak to him had apparently been chased off by McGonagall.

The only good thing about Halloween was that they were having another feast. As Harry sat at the long table he was besieged by a veritable horde of delicious scents. Almost every food imaginable was present - chicken, beef, sausage, bacon, potatoes done in seven different ways, and a rainbow of vegetables. Harry also managed to spy a small, untouched bowl of lemon sherbet sweets, and again wondered at its presence.

"Quirrell's not here," Draco observed quietly. Harry looked up to the Head table and scanned across, noting with a dispassionate frown that Draco's assessment was correct.

"No, he's not. I wonder if he's sick or something?" Blaise shook his head.

"Nuh-uh," he mumbled around a mouthful of food. "Saw him round by his room earlier." Harry shrugged indifferently.

"Probably just avoiding the feast, then. Have you seen how annoyed Professor Snape looks?" One of the third years sitting across from them grinned at Harry's question.

"Of course he's annoyed. He's only allowed to take away points five at a time until tomorrow. Apparently, a few years back he took away seven hundred point in one feast night, so Dumbledore had to put restrictions on him. Ravenclaw got left with about three points, Hufflepuff had like negative thirty, and Gryffindor had minus two-hundred and something. I think we won the House cup that year because of that alone." The three friends burst out laughing, all making sure to keep their heads turned away from their glaring Head of House, all thoughts of Quirrell far away.

Dessert had appeared on the tables and was half eaten before Quirrell made an appearance. The large double doors, which had previously been shut, swung open and Quirrell ran in, his face a pasty white and sweat dripping down his forehead and his turban askew.

"TROLL!" he screeched, coming to a stop next to the Gryffindor table. "There's a troll in the castle! In the dungeons!" He collapsed to the floor in an ungainly heap. Pandemonium ensued. No less than three Ravenclaws pulled out Arithmantic equations to work out the safest routes to their common room, seven Hufflepuffs burst into tears, twenty Gryffindors stood with their wands out, and every Slytherin, including Professor Snape, rolled their eyes. It took Dumbledore casting a Sonorous charm to get the room to quieten down.

"EVERYBODY QUIET!" he called out loudly. "Sit down now! Prefects will escort their Houses back to their common rooms. Professors Sinistra and Vector will escort Slytherin House, and Professors Kettleburn and Sprout will escort Hufflepuff House. All fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh years are authorised, and advised to, have wands out in the corridors until the troll has been removed. Mister Higgs and Miss Li please stay with Professor Quirrell in the Great Hall until he has woken, and then go straight to your chambers."

"Everybody up!" shouted one of the prefects, and Harry, Draco and Blaise obeyed immediately, following the crowd.

"Granger!" Blaise groaned suddenly.

"What?" Draco asked scathingly. "Stop thinking about your little girlfriend and get out of here."

"She's in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom - has been all day. Weasley made her cry." Harry explained. "We should tell someone."

"Flitwick," said Draco, at the same time as Blaise announced "Sprout!"

"Flitwick's her Head of House," Draco pointed out reasonably.

"But Sprout will give us more House points." Blaise argued. Harry rolled his eyes, and raised his voice.

"Professor Snape!" he called, and saw the dour man make his way over to them.

"Reasonable," Draco muttered.

"And he'll give us points," Blaise smirked.

"Yes, Mister Potter?" The professor asked when he got close enough to speak with them.

"It's Hermione Granger, sir," Blaise started.

"Weasley made her cry this morning, Professor," Draco continued.

"And so she's been hiding in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom all day." Harry finished. "You don't think she'll get hurt, do you?" Harry affected a scared expression, Draco and Blaise mimicking him. Snape grimaced, and shook his head.

"Five points to Slytherin each for protecting the welfare of your fellow students. I will make sure that a Professor goes to see her safely back to her common room. Now go with the rest of Slytherin House." Harry turned to see that Camélia, Jess Chambers and Lucy had waited for them, along with two sixth years, four fourth years and a lone third year.

As soon as their ragtag group left the Great Hall, every Slytherin had whipped out their wands, the younger students disregarding Dumbledore's orders. Camélia observed this with slightly pursed lips, before instructing them lowly.

"If we see the troll, point your wand and shout _Stupefy_ as many times as you can," she said seriously. "And if I say to run - run!" Thankfully, they reached the common room, without incident, to find a circle of sixth and seventh years on the edge of their seats with their wands out and pointed at the doorway.

"We didn't see the troll," Jess told them quietly.

"Or hear any screams." Lucy looked almost disappointed that they hadn't. The Slytherins sat in almost-silence for the better part of an hour when Professor Snape limped in through the front entrance.

"The troll is gone. Thirty points to Slytherin for your vigilance in protecting the younger years," he said, then looked to the group of first years, who sat near the back of the common room. "And another fifteen points each for Messers Malfoy, Potter and Zabini. The troll and the Ravenclaw were in the same bathroom. If we hadn't known Miss Granger was there, she may very well have died." Camélia stood and faced the Professor with a timid smile.

"Mon Proffesseur! You are eenjured!" Harry stifled a smile at the girl's accent. "Let me 'elp you!" She pulled her wand, and gestured for the man to sit in the chair she had just vacated. Professor Snape paused for a moment, before seating himself gingerly.

"Be careful, Miss Gladiolus," he said in a low voice as she murmured various spells over his leg, finishing with a _Reparo _for his trouser leg. The professor stood and bent his leg forwards and backwards. "Very well done, thank you. Twenty points to Slytherin."

"Thank you, Proffesseur! I am 'oping to become a Healer once I leave 'ogwarts." Camélia gushed.

"Well, you may count on at least one good reference. Now, all of you must go to bed. I will check the common room in ten minutes, and if it is not empty you will regret it."

Harry, Draco and Blaise were the first of the first years to make it downstairs to their dorm, and they quickly readied themselves for bed before the other three arrived back, clambering into bed sleepily.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

It took a few days for the fuss over the troll to die down, and in that time Harry, Draco and Blaise were congratulated by a steady stream of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Hermione Granger was in the Hospital Wing, and the story of how three Slytherins, rather than any of her house mates had recognised her disappearance was well known around the school.

The three friends went to visit her in the hospital wing, with Blaise bringing a box of sugar quills (yet again, courtesy of Narcissa Malfoy). Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes at them, but grudgingly granted them entry. They found Hermione sitting up in her bed, head buried in a thick tome.

"Hermione?" Blaise asked gently, and was surprised when Hermione's head sprang right up, her eyes red and puffy as if she'd been crying. "Hermione, are you okay?" Hermione all but launched herself at Blaise, her arms wrapping tightly around him. Blaise awkwardly hugged her back and looked at Harry and Draco with wide eyes over the top of her head.

"It was so horrible!" Hermione sobbed into Blaise's robes. Draco and Harry smothered sniggers at Blaise's horrified face. "The… the troll was so horrible! It smelt so badly, and it was so big, and it hit me with its club, and I didn't know what to do, and if it wasn't for you three I'd be dead!" She clung even more tightly to Blaise as her sobs increased in volume. Madam Pomfrey appeared from her office, but her sour expression softened as she saw Blaise hugging Hermione, and she disappeared again, smiling to herself.

"It's okay, Hermione." Blaise mumbled. "It's okay, we're all here for you. And you can't hug me all day, you have to hug Harry and Draco, too. It was Draco who noticed really, he deserves your thanks, not me." Hermione extricated herself from Blaise and threw her arms around Draco, who screwed up his face in distaste. Harry and Blaise shared a grin and a wink at their friend's obvious displeasure.

"I owe you all my lives!" Hermione said several minutes later, once she was safely ensconced in the bed again. "I don't know how I could ever repay you!"

"I can think of plenty of ways," Blaise said cheekily. "Your History of Magic notes, would be a good one. Or, you could share these sugar quills we bought. Harry's never had one either."

Somehow, a week later, when Blaise was presented with three sheaves of notes, Harry wasn't surprised in the least. And when the notes continued to appear the three just grinned at each other, and gratefully used their History of Magic lessons to sleep.

With the end of October, came a sharp decline in the amount of tutoring Harry was receiving. Harry was declared passable in speaking like a Pureblood wizard, and was told that only time would get him to think more like one, and Marcus admitted that their Quidditch conversations were now only that now Harry knew all of the rules and most of the techniques. Lucy and Camélia were still forcing Harry to dance at weekends, but were told his manners were beautiful. He had a grasp of a fair amount of family trees, and the important events in wizarding history and could play Exploding Snap and Gobstones fairly well, although his chess was abysmal.

This meant that Harry had an abundance of free time. Where before he had been struggling to fit his homework into his busy schedule, he had gained skills in researching, and in time management, so his essays were usually done in good time. In fact, the only people Harry knew who did their essays faster were Draco and Hermione, but those two were in a league of their own. Since he had so much unstructured time, Harry began to get bored.

The idea came to him as they were leaving Charms, when a Hufflepuff boy called Justin tried to walk the wrong way down the corridor.

"Where does that even lead to?" Blaise asked half-heartedly. "What a bloody idiot."

"Where _does _that corridor go?" Harry said curiously. "We don't know the half of this castle. We should explore, the three of us together." Draco had groaned, and put up protests, but Blaise's enthusiasm soon wore him down.

"Come on, Draco! We absolutely have to go!" It was three AM on a Saturday night, and the common room was completely empty. The three of them all wore dark clothes, and they snuck from the dungeons completely unseen.

"Let's go see that corridor by Charms!" Blaise suggested in an excited whisper. Draco grimaced, but allowed himself to be dragged along by his two friends. The castle was quiet; even the portraits were sleeping. The staircases moved slowly, almost as if they knew that the three Slytherins weren't supposed to be out. The three walked down the Charms corridor as silently as they could, finally reaching a dead end with a single door.

Harry tentatively put his hand out and turned the door knob carefully, hoping against hope that it wouldn't creak. Thankfully, it turned easily, and the door swung open. Blaise entered the room first, spinning in a wide circle.

"There's nothing here," he sounded disappointed. "Nothing but a big old mirror." Draco and Harry stepped into the room, and Harry frowned at the realization that Blaise had been right. They were about to leave, when Draco stepped in front of the mirror, and froze. Harry rushed over to him, only to see his face turn up in the most brilliant smile he had ever seen.

"This mirror…" Draco whispered wonderingly. "I… I… I see my father. He's telling me that he's proud of me. I'm wearing the Head Boy Badge, and I've got an Order of Merlin. Mother's there too, she's got my N.E.W.T. results - all O's." Draco span round frantically, grabbing a hold of the front of Harry's robes. "Where are they, Harry? What is this? Do you think this mirror shows the future?" Blaise stepped forwards, and wormed his way in front of Draco to look into the mirror. He too smiled, but with a more forlorn look.

"It can't show the future. I see my father. He's with mother, and they're both smiling, and they're holding hands. He's got his arm around me, he's telling me he loves me." Blaise turned to Harry and Draco, eyes wide. "It can't be the future - my father's dead."

"I don't know," Harry said slowly. "Let me see." Blaise obligingly stepped back, and Harry prised Draco's fingers from his collar, moving unerringly to stand in front of the mirror. Harry let out a long breath as he stared into the figures moving in the mirror. "I'm there," he told his friends. "and I can see all of my family, all of them around me. All of the Potters." Harry abruptly turned from the mirror. "Come on, we should go back to Slytherin. Can't stay here all night, can we?"

Draco and Blaise obligingly followed Harry through the darkened corridors until they reached their dormitory. The other two were asleep in moments, but Harry just lay on his bed, staring at the canopy above him, because he hadn't seen what he'd told his friends he had seen. No, Harry had seen something much more unnerving in the mirror. As he curled onto his side, he replayed through the images the mirror had shown him.

_He's younger, again, standing in front of the Dursley's house, but in new clothes that fit well. He walks in, as if he's always been allowed to use that door. As he enters, his Aunt is in the kitchen. She smiles at him, and offers him a piece of chocolate from the dessert she's making. His Uncle Vernon appears then, and he greets Harry with a hug, offering him money for a new computer game. Then __Dudley walks in, Vernon cuffs him round the head, and Petunia scowls at him, telling him to go back to his cupboard. Dudley wipes his eyes, scrubbing away at the tears, and Mirror-Harry laughs, loudly and cruelly. _

Harry blinked, and rubbed at his eyes, trying fruitlessly to rid himself of the image. He rolled over, and punched at his pillow, taking out all of his frustration at the image. _It's not horrid,_ a part of his mind screamed. _You like it. You want it. You wanted to be in Dudley's place your whole life, and you wanted him to be in your position, beaten and downhearted._

Harry didn't sleep much that night.

The next morning, Harry was grateful that he didn't have to get up for lessons. He skipped breakfast, ignoring his friends' attempts to get him up, throwing a pillow at Blaise when the other boy threatened to pour a glass of water on him. Eventually, Harry was left alone to mope in the dormitory. He'd had dreams about what he'd seen in the mirror, other childhoods that he could have had, and his own past was playing heavily on his mind.

Harry decided that no matter what the others wanted, he wasn't going back to that mirror. It was too tempting, and Harry knew that if he looked into it again he still wouldn't see anything possible. Under no circumstances would he allow himself to go down the Charms corridor again.

Less than twelve hours later, Harry was standing in front of the mirror. Draco and Blaise weren't with him this time; he had decided it would be better for him to sneak off on his own. Harry let his eyes wander around the edges of the mirror, running his hands gently over the gilded edges. As he reached the top of the mirror, he frowned. There were letters carved into it, but in the dim light, he couldn't read them.

"_Lumos!"_ he whispered fiercely, holding his wand aloft. "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi." Harry frowned. The words were obviously in another language. Perhaps he could get Draco to help him look up a translation spell? Or Hermione. She wouldn't ask as many awkward questions. Harry took a deep breath, and looked into the mirror once more.

This time, however, the mirror showed a differing image. He was older now, walking through the halls of Hogwarts with the Head Boy badge, and the students around him all smiled at him, and greeted him joyfully. Harry blinked and the scene changed. He was older still, out of Hogwarts, walking through Diagon Alley, and everyone he passed smiled at him, and waved. Harry shook his head, and turned away from the mirror. _That _was what he wanted. That was _everything _he wanted. To be loved, and to be cared for, and to be _adored!_ Like Draco had been adored by his parents, like Blaise was adored by his mother.

With a sudden flash of inspiration, Harry turned back to the inscription at the top of the mirror. "_Reverso!"_ Only a few weeks previously, Professor McGonagall had had them reversing images - why exactly, Harry didn't know, but the spell would come in useful. The letters flipped around, and Harry grinned at them. Now they spelt out something different. _ishow no tyo urfac ebu tyo urhe arts desirE._

"I show not your face but your hearts desire." Harry whispered to himself. He had been right. The mirror had shown him what he had wanted. Not, as Draco had hoped, what would come to pass.

Harry felt the back of his throat constrict, and his eyes burn with tears. He turned from the mirror, and ran blindly away from the room, out of the corridor, and away from the dormitory. He ran upwards, finally seating himself on the floor in a blackened corridor. And there, Harry let out the despair that had plagued him since the first time he had seen the mirror. Tears streamed down his face, as he silently cried.

It was lucky, that Harry did not bawl out when he cried, or else he would have missed the sounds of the cranky caretaker climbing the stairs, muttering to his mangy old cat. Harry's eyes widened, and he backed down the corridor, feeling along the walls for a door. His hands reached wood, and a brass handle, and he gratefully pulled on it, then pushed to no avail.

"_Alohomora!" _Harry frantically whispered, still pushing and pulling frantically. He heard a click from the lock, and the door pulled open, just enough for Harry to squeeze through. Harry breathed heavily as he leant against the inside of the door. His ear was pressed against the heavy wood, listening carefully for Filch. When he heard nothing, Harry turned to observe the room he had entered warily.

In the back of his mind, Harry supposed he had expected to see a dusty old classroom, or an empty room, like the one the mirror had been in. Harry was, however, certain that he did not expect to come face to face with a three headed dog.

Harry's eyes widened, flicking frantically from side to side, looking for a way out. He spotted a trapdoor underneath the dog's feet, but dismissed it as an unworkable exit. The dog advanced, only by a step or two, but it was now close enough for Harry to see the sheen of its drool on the sharp canine teeth, the glow of its eyes in the darkened room, close enough to smell the rancid meat on its breath. Without a thought for Filch, Harry threw open the door behind him and ran as fast as he could for the dungeons.


	12. Chapter 12: Gryffindorks

- Chapter 12 -

Gryffindorks

With November came not only freezing cold, but also the first Quidditch match of the year. For some reason that Marcus Flint couldn't fathom, it had been seen as a good idea by the faculty to place the most competitive match as the first of the season. Harry suddenly found himself unable to walk around the school without a guard of older students, thanks to Flint, who seemed to be taking no chances with his secret weapon of a Seeker.

Well, he had supposed to have been a secret weapon at any rate. Apparently, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain had taken to hanging out of windows overlooking the pitch with a set of almost-binoculars, called 'Omnioculars', and had been observing some of Harry's flying skills. Harry had been quite proud when the Ravenclaw seeker, Lexi Hatton, had been heard to complain about the extra training sessions her captain was forcing on her. Flint, however had compensated by giving Harry one-on-one training sessions. He had even faced down Camélia in a near-duel in the common room for who could monopolise Harry's time. In the end, the Head Boy, Terence Higgs had had to come down to mediate between the two lest the entire common room be destroyed.

Not that Harry had been happy with Terence's end compromise. Marcus would train him during weekends for the next two weeks, up until the morning of the match, but Harry would have to spend Sunday mornings with Camélia dancing after they had played. He supposed that if they won the match then it might _just _be worth it.

Professor Snape had apparently argued the Headmaster into dipping into the Slytherin team funds to buy a broom for Harry. It had arrived one morning before breakfast in the Professor's office. Draco and Blaise had insisted that it was a brilliant broom, but Harry honestly couldn't tell whether a Nimbus 2000 was any good.

The weeks leading up to the match found the relationship between Gryffindor and Slytherin much more antagonistic than usual. Harry was grateful that Professor Flitwick had finally gotten round to teaching them the _Protego _charm, as he seemed to be making use of it more and more often. He had taken to sticking with larger groups, after the single occasion that a group of Gryffindors had found he, Blaise and Draco walking alone to the library.

Thankfully, more Slytherin students had been around the corner and had gathered with the three first years to help them, and the Gryffindors had backed off when a group of Ravenclaw first years, led by Hermione Granger had joined them too. Harry had still had to go to the hospital wing with antlers, however. After that, Harry made sure he was with groups of older students, not wanting to risk the possibility of a more serious hex that would spoil his chances for the match.

In lessons things weren't much better either. In Magical Sports, Harry was careful to avoid being on a broom much, not wanting to showcase his skills to the opposing House, and Astronomy was often filled with Gryffindors making cruel jokes about running around the Quidditch pitch with a mattress for when he (undoubtedly) fell off of his broom. At meals, Harry was careful to sit nearer to the Professor's high table, where any hexes thrown would be obvious to the staff.

There were, however, good things about being on the Quidditch team. A few of the older girls and one particularly artistic boy had been spending time in the common room making large banners, and altering clothing. Harry had seen that they had scarves and had altered their own cloaks with each of the players names on them, and witty comments to do with their position on the team. Flint had _Chase__ me, __Captain__. _Miles Bletchley had _Keep__ me near, dear. _Adrian Pucey, _Let me __Chase__, darling. _Peregrine Derrick, _Beating__ his bludger alone _(apparently, he had upset one of the girls). Charles Warrington had _Chased__ me into bed _(he had seemingly done so rather well). Jacob Blishwick, _What a large stick to __beat__ me with, honey. _Harry was rather surprised to see one for him there too - _Seek__ my snitch anytime, hero!_

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

The night before the match, Harry couldn't sleep. He tossed, and turned, before finally climbing out of bed, not realising how much he had hoped that one of the others would be awake until he saw the darkness and heard the heavy breathing and snores. He sighed, pulled out his thick black dressing gown and headed upstairs to the common room. His watch read half past one, and he hoped that there would still be someone he knew awake.

Unfortunately, when Harry entered the common room, it was empty. He stifled a sigh and headed over to the nearest fire, curling himself into an armchair and revelling in the warmth. He heard the entrance slide open, and so wasn't too surprised at the body that deposited itself in the chair next to his. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the other boy seemingly trying to think what to say.

"I'm not even playing tomorrow, and yet I'm as nervous as if it was my first match all over again," he said. Harry looked over into the dark eyes of Terence Higgs, and smiled softly.

"I'm not really nervous," Harry said after a moment. "I just want to be out there already. It's so much easier when you're on a broom, nothing else matters up there. It's just you and the broom, watching for the snitch." Terrence smirked then, a wide, smug smirk.

"You know, I'm kind of glad that I'm not playing." Terence admitted. "You should hear Marcus going on about your skills on a broom - I swear he talks as if you were born mid-air. Some of the things he says you can do… I mean, a Wronski Feint? You're _eleven _for gods sake, and that's a bloody professional manoeuvre. I tell you, Harry, you could go far in Quidditch, if you work at it. And with your name too… you're almost guaranteed to get signed. Just make sure to keep your name in the spotlight as much as you can." Harry hummed in agreement, staring steadfastly into the flames.

"We're going to win." Harry said into the silence of the room. "I'm going to catch the snitch, and we're going to pummel those Gryffindors."

When Harry went back to bed, he slept surprisingly well.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

The morning of the match dawned bright and early. Harry was the last to wake, finding himself being shaken by Draco and Theo and dragged out of bed only moments before Vince, Greg and Blaise appeared with buckets of water to pour onto him. Vince and Greg threw the water onto the bed anyway, but Blaise just pouted.

"Spoilt all of our fun now," he whined the whole way to breakfast. "You're going to be the big star of Slytherin after this - couldn't you have let us made you look like a fool _once?_" Harry just smirked, and inwardly swore to repay both Draco and Theo for their help as soon as he could.

As they entered the Great Hall, they were met by a cacophony of loud jeering from the Gryffindor table. One or two of the nearer students threw a couple of bread rolls at Harry, which he caught easily. The group of first years all smirked.

"Thanks, I sure am hungry today," Harry called to the Gryffindors, who just scowled at him. "Guess I'll be needing all of my energy when we beat you today." When they reached the Slytherin table, the back of Harry's robes were pulled by Marcus Flint.

"The team eats together," Marcus told him, and motioned him down. Harry shrugged at his friends, and sat with the other Quidditch players. They all wore embroidered robes that had been a present from Marcus Flint's family. Their robes were the darkest green, with silver stitching on the back. Each had a silver snake wrapped around the year, the player's name and their position. When Harry had been presented with his the night before, Marcus had told him that it was a tradition that the Captain of the Slytherin team buy the robes to be worn the morning before, and the week after matches that had been won out of lessons.

Marcus had also told Harry about their Quidditch Uniform, which was apparently unlike that of any of the other Houses. Each team member put in twelve Galleons, and received proper Quidditch leathers - green, tight-fitting trousers with special padding in sensitive areas, and a padded waistcoat to be worn under the dark green t-shirt. Marcus said that the other teams wore robes, but that they were bothersome in the air, and that the padding meant that the team was less bothered by bludgers.

It was quiet as the team ate, the rest of the House leaving them to their introspective moods, and their own small talk. At a nod from Marcus the entire team stood, Harry pulled up a little by Jacob Blishwick, the seventh-year beater he had met on his first night. Automatically, they surrounded Harry, effectively shepherding him to the Quidditch pitch. They entered the changing rooms in silence, changing clothes quickly.

"Put your wand here," Marcus pointed to a deceptively small slot in the leather glove of Harry's right hand. At least the team referred to them as gloves. They were more like wrist-supports, in Harry's mind, leaving a wide portion of his palm and fingers uncovered so that he could still grip. Harry watched in amazement as the length of wood slipped into the pocket. It felt odd, knowing that his wand was there, but not physically being able to feel it.

The team, now all fully dressed, sat on the wooden benches in the changing room, leaving only Marcus still standing. His eyes flashed over each of them, and he grinned menacingly.

"Okay, team, this is it. First match of the season, and it's going to be ours. Both our team and Gryffindors are mostly the same, with the only new players being the seekers. This means that we know we can beat them. Their Beaters and their Keeper are their strongest assets, so Perry and Jacob you'll need to be watching them as well as the Bludgers to predict what they're going to do. Charles, Adrian just make sure to keep to the same sorts of drills that we've been doing, and try not to let Bell near the Quaffle, she's fast. Miles, just do what you did last year and we'll be fine. Don't worry if you let one or two past, we'll score plenty more.

"Harry, don't worry at all. You're the stronger Seeker by far, they've got a kid called Derrick Lopes who looks as if this is his first time on a broom. Try and catch the Snitch when we're more than a hundred points above them, it'll give us a good lead for the rest of the year. We've won the cup the last couple of years, we can do it again. Let's go win." As Marcus finished speaking, Harry realised that he could hear people in the stands above them. He gulped, and stood with the rest of the team. "Okay, everybody in order. I'll go first, then Perry, Jacob, Charles, Adrian next, Miles then Harry you're last. Mount your brooms, we'll fly out." The whole team stood ready, waiting for a signal… and then Harry heard it.

"And first up, the Slytherin team!" Called a loud voice. "The captain and Chaser, Marcus Flint," at each name, the respective player flew out. "Beater Peregrine Derrick, Beater Jacob Blishwick, Chaser Charles Warrington, Chaser Adrian Pucey." Miles winked at Harry as he prepared to fly. "Keeper, Miles Bletchley and finally new Seeker Harry Potter!" Harry flew out as he heard his name, keeping his heels tucked into the broom and flying a high circle of the pitch before coming to rest a few metres above the Slytherin goal posts. The rest of the team were all in their pre-planned positions around the pitch, faces hard and eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Now the Gryffindor team!" Called the voice again. "The captain, and Keeper, Oliver Wood, Beaters Fred and George Weasley, Chasers Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, finally, new seeker Derrick Lopes." The Gryffindor team flew out in some semblance of order. The captain, then the two beaters, then the three chasers and seeker all in one. Harry snorted at the disorganization of the team.

Before he knew it, the Quaffle had been thrown into the air, and his eyes were searching for the Snitch. He flew in wide circles around the pitch, steadfastly hunting for the telltale glint. The Gryffindor Seeker flew much more erratically, ducking and diving and glancing back and forth into the crowd. Harry tried to keep half an ear on the commentary as well. It would ruin their strategy if he caught the Snitch too early.

"And Slytherin are already ahead by twenty points to nothing, those cheating basta- Sorry Professor… Flint has the Quaffle, but I don't see what the other Chasers are doing, Warrington and Pucey are down the other end of the pitch, there's no way that Flint can get through the Gryffindor Chasers… Wait! What's this? The Slytherin Seeker, Harry Potter has just swooped down and caught the Quaffle thrown up to him by Flint… he's sped past the Chasers, and dropped the ball straight into the hands of Pucey… Slytherin scores, thirty to nothing." Harry tuned out as he dodged a stray Bludger shot by one of the Weasleys. Jacob Blishwick sped around him and grinned wolfishly as he swung his bat, the Bludger only missing one of the Gryffindor Chasers by her own dumb luck.

Draco and Blaise watched on enviously from the stands. Draco's father had sent a pair of omnioculars for Draco to watch the game with. Due to Draco's penchant for re-watching goals in slow motion, he was considerably surprised to hear Blaise's terrified gasp.

"No! Harry!" his hand latched onto Draco's arm, clutching tightly to the sleeve of his robes. Draco twitched to look at Blaise, a frown on his face, only to hear Theo on his other side gasp too.

"What's wrong with Harry's broom?" Theo asked, eyes wide. "That can't be right…" Draco quickly returned his Omnioculars to real-time, and looked up at his best friend. Wordlessly, he passed them over to a near frantic Blaise.

"He's holding on," Draco reassured himself, and Theo. "He's staying on the broom." Meanwhile, Blaise frowned darkly.

"His broom is being jinxed," Blaise growled. "Fuck, this is bad."

"How would _you _know that? You never pay attention in Defence!" Draco asked facetiously, turning his nose up.

"My mother's fourth husband er… fell from his broom and died a few years back." Blaise's eyes wandered over to the Professors box. "It'd have to be an older student or a teacher, it's not an easy jinx. Draco, you look at the teachers with your Omnioculars, me and Theo'll see what we can get from the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, they're the closest. Whoever it is won't be moving about, they'll be still and they won't blink. Probably be muttering something too." The two other boys nodded seriously, and set about their tasks, until Draco swore fiercely.

"Professor Snape isn't blinking, or moving," He swore again, and continued staring through the Omnioculars. "Wait a second, neither is Quirrell."

"Then let's stop them both," Blaise said after a moment. "One's casting a counter. I'd guess it's Snape, but we can't be sure. If we get them both at the same time, it should work." Draco nodded in agreement, and turned to Theo.

"Theo, you go and warn Professor Flitwick, he's sitting at the bottom of the Ravenclaws. Take the Omnioculars, and show him. Blaise, you take out Quirrell, I'll get my Godfather." Draco said the last with a grim tone that worried the other boys slightly. Almost instantaneously, the three boys scrambled their way down and out of the stands, heading for their specified teachers.

Theo reached Professor Flitwick first, and explained in an undertone that he thought Harry's broom was being jinxed, and asked the diminutive Professor to keep his wand out in case his friend fell. Flitwick agreed without hesitation, and glued his eyes to the Omnioculars trained on Harry.

Draco and Blaise had raced down together, making sure to stay with each other. If they knocked out the Professor protecting Harry they would be sure to send him spiralling to the ground. With a small nudge from Draco, the pair disappeared underneath the stands, to the walkways used only when people left.

Blaise found his mark first, and he readied his wand to send a jolt to Quirrell. It took another few precious seconds for Draco to get behind Snape, his wand out too. Draco raised his free hand, and counted down from three. As his last finger dropped, the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was thrown forwards into the crowd, and the Potions Master jumped out of his seat to douse the flames licking at the hem of his robes.

By the time the Professors had recovered themselves enough to check the walkways, Draco and Blaise were already well on their way back to the Slytherin stands.

Theo sat waiting for them, his eyes still stuck to the Omnioculars. As Draco and Blaise slid into the seats next to him he tore himself away for long enough to give them a pleased smile, and to return the Omnioculars to their owner. Draco looked up in relief, to Harry looking more confident. He passed them over to Blaise, who sighed gratefully. Draco tuned into the commentary as he watched his friend fly, a dark figure against the greying clouds.

"And it looks like Derrick Lopes, the Gryffindor Seeker has seen the Snitch, he's diving for it, but the Slytherin Seeker isn't moving," the commentator's voice reached them on the wind. Draco and Blaise exchanged a terrified glance.

"Is he…?"

"Not again!" They spluttered, only to hear a snigger from Theo.

"The Gryffindor is feinting, though he won't be able to dive as far as a Wronski." He explained, and sure enough, as Draco observed through the Omnioculars the Gryffindor Seeker pulled up twenty metres from the ground.

"Oh, and it appears that that was a feint from Lopes, pity the Slytherin didn't fall for it. The kid is either very astute, or completely dense to have missed that. Let's hope it's den- Never mind, sorry Professor." The commentator appeared to be being chastised for his bias, although by which Professor, the students weren't sure. "And Slytherin score again, bringing the totals to eighty to ten. Come on Gryffindor, put your backs into it!"

It was clear that the Gryffindor team weren't near the standard of the Slytherins, their chasers couldn't keep up with the nerve wracking moves pulled by Marcus, Charles and Adrian. Before Harry knew it, the score was one-hundred-and-twenty to ten. Time for him to find the Snitch. The crowd could visibly see Harry's posture change. He had previously been quite straight backed, flying in lazy circles near to the Gryffindor Seeker, watching his opposite player, but now he was across the other side of the pitch, flat to his broom eyes flickering over the grounds.

At a motion from Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Seeker flew over towards Harry, who dropped like a rock as fast as he could. His broom was nearly vertical. Derrick Lopes swore and followed Harry as closely as he could. When Harry was a metre or two from the ground, he pulled up sharply, veering off to the left. The Gryffindor Seeker was only saved from a nasty fall by Professor Flitwick's quick spell work. Harry was oblivious to the booing from the Gryffindor stands, and to the cheering and laughter from his own House. Instead, he circled the pitch in a wide spiral.

And there it was! A flash of gold, behind one of the Weasley twins' heads, and Harry was off like a shot. The Weasley did a barrel roll to avoid being hit by one of Harry's feet, and the Gryffindors booed again, but Harry paid no attention. He followed the speck of gold around the bases of the Gryffindor hoops, and up again, dodging around a Slytherin chaser, only distantly hearing the roar as he scored.

The Snitch dipped again, skimming along close to the ground. The Gryffindor Seeker was behind him now, just a few metres away. Harry growled, and shimmied forwards on his broom, edging even closer to the Snitch. He felt his broom jerk as the Gryffindor grabbed a hold of the tail end of his broom. Harry growled at the blatant foul, but paid no heed to it, instead gripping more tightly to the broom so he couldn't fall off.

The golden ball was within reach now, but he couldn't risk letting go of the broom, it was too dangerous, and as much as Harry wanted to win, there was no way on Earth he would sacrifice himself for a _game_. That left him with one viable option. His mouth. Delicately, he leant himself as far forwards as he dared, broom pointing straight at the Snitch, and gave his broom one last push, and - there! He shot straight at the ball, mouth open ready, and voila!

The Gryffindor let go of his tail despondently, and Harry raised his hand to grab onto the Snitch, holding it aloft as he flew upwards, whooping with joy. He could see his friends jumping about in excitement in the stands and he grinned happily at them. Madam Hooch's whistle sounded, and the commentator counted up the final score.

"Slytherin win, with two-hundred-and-seventy points to Gryffindor's ten. Bad luck on the Gryffindor Seeker, the Slytherin bastard caught it with his teeth." The Professor didn't correct him that time, and if Harry had been listening, he'd have been sure the Professor was McGonagall, but as it was he was far too ecstatic to listen to a thing.

The Slytherin team all flew around him, patting him jovially on the back as they took a victory lap around the pitch. Marcus led them back into the changing rooms, and after around twenty minutes, when they'd all showered a few of their Housemates slipped into the rooms.

Marylin Max ran over to her fiancée, Jacob Blishwick, showering him with kisses, Charles Warrington was surrounded by a gaggle of fifth year girls, and Jess Chambers seemed to be getting very close to Marcus Flint. Peregrine Derrick had three male friends eagerly talking over the game with him, Charles Warrington and Adrain Pucey had cornered the market on sixth year girls. Harry looked around uncertainly for a minute, unsure if he should leave, until Camélia came up behind him.

"Harry, you were brilliant!" she gushed. "When you were chasing the Snitch at the end… I've never seen anyone fly like that!" Another voice chimed in, lightly joking.

"Well Camélia, that's because you've never seen me fly!" Terrence joked before turning to Harry. "You know, I'm glad I retired from the team," he admitted. "That was brilliant. I think the cup is in the bag this year." The two seventh years parted as Draco and Blaise approached, wide grins covering their worried eyes.

Draco leaned into Harry, and told him what they and Theo had done earlier. Harry frowned confusedly.

"But why would anyone want to jinx me?" He asked, then sighed to himself. "Stupid question." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "We need to see Professor Snape," Harry announced.

"But if he was the one who was jinxing you, we'll need back up," Blaise pointed out. Draco grinned widely.

"I'll Floo my father. He's a governor, he can be here as soon as we need him."


	13. Chapter 13: Confrontation

- Chapter 13 -

Confrontation

Thankfully, the three boys didn't have to wait very long. Harry had insisted that they get involved in the party so as not to look suspicious when their professor removed them. All three could tell instantly when the dour man entered the common room; a hush spread from the door until the self-proclaimed 'DJ' of the hour noticed him and cut the music with a dramatic swish of his wand that mimicked the classic vinyl sound.

He stalked through the students, face dark. Marcus Flint and Terence Higgs intercepted him at the same time.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," Terence said smoothly. "I hope we haven't disturbed you with our music." The professor shook his head absently as he scanned the room.

"Can we help you with anything, sir?" Marcus asked carefully. Again, the Potions Master shook his head and continued scanning the room. His eyes passed over Harry, Draco and Blaise before returning to rest on them.

"Mister Malfoy, your father is here and he wishes to speak with the three of you." He snapped. "You will come to my office immediately." Professor Snape whirled back round the way he had come. Harry and Blaise feigned looks of confusion at each other as Draco led them into the office, a haughty expression fixed on his face.

When the door to the room closed, Lucius was on his feet, arms around his son. He pressed a kiss to the blonde's forehead before hugging Harry too. It took Harry a precious few seconds to unfreeze and relax into the hold, being still fairly unused to the spontaneity of the touch. Lucius also solemnly shook hands with Blaise, then conjured comfortable armchairs for the young three. They sat, leaving Lucius standing, and their Professor seated and sneering behind his desk.

"So, Lucius, is there any particular reason we are being honoured with your presence?" To the untrained ear, the Professor would sound as if he were annoyed that his personal space had been invaded, yet to Lucius and Draco, who had known him for many years, he sounded almost glad to have the company. Lucius smirked.

"I confess, Severus, that I am as clueless as you are." He smiled fondly at the boys. "I received an urgent owl from Draco, saying that he, Harry and Blaise had an issue that they would only be able to resolve with my assistance." He turned to address the first-years. "Care to share?"

"Did you see Harry flying earlier, Professor?" Draco asked coyly. "Very good showing for Slytherin, don't you think?"

"Yes, Mister Potter did play rather well." The Professor admitted with a sharp nod. Draco looked expectantly at Blaise, who narrowed his eyes before continuing.

"There were a few minutes where he wasn't flying so well though, wouldn't you agree, sir?" Blaise kept speaking through the elder man's nod. "For a little while, I thought he might fall off, you know? Reminded me of something…" His eyes flicked upwards to meet the Potions Master's own. "You know, I had a step-father who died after he fell from his broom." Lucius's eyebrows receded nearly into his hairline as he watched his sallow friend visibly pale.

"Somebody set fire to your robes during the match, didn't they, Professor?" Harry cut in next. "And I heard that Professor Quirrell was knocked over at around the same time. Strange really, but I was told that my broom stopped acting up then too. A lot of coincidences today, right?"

Their Professor sat stock still, face as white as a sheet. Harry, Draco and Blaise were all hard pressed to keep smirks from appearing on their faces. Draco's father, however, had no such compunctions.

"Speechless, Severus, thanks to three eleven year olds?" His smirk suddenly became predatory as he advanced. "I don't think I like what they are suggesting, though. It seems to me as if they believe that you are the one responsible for a problem with Harry's broom. A potentially _fatal_ problem…" He trailed off, locking eyes with Harry, his head cocked.

"That is correct, Mister Malfoy," Harry answered formally, his strong voice echoing oddly in the dungeon room. Lucius snarled.

"I hope, Severus, that they are wrong. I _desperately _hope that they are wrong. But you know as well as I that I can not, and _will not _leave Draco, or Harry, or Blaise, or _any other _in your care based solely on hope. There are three choices before us here. The first is to take this to Dumbledore. The second, you allow me to legilimize you. The third is Veritaserum."

The Potions Master's eyes widened even further, although he made no protest. He sighed deeply before speaking.

"We can not go to Dumbledore," he stated flatly. "This matter is too sensitive for that. And I can not allow you to legilimize me; I carry secrets that I am… _disallowed _from sharing."

"On pain of what?" Lucius asked astutely, eliciting a grimace from the darker man.

"On pain of death," Professor Snape said simply. "I am sure that you will understand there are some things that I can not tell you. After all, who doesn't have their own secrets?" He affected a wry smile, but Lucius simply glared at him. "I will fetch the Veritaserum." He stood, obviously intending to go to his storeroom, but was stopped by a wand at his throat.

"No. I am not fool enough to let you go and take the fake bottle from your storage cupboard, my friend," Lucius pressed the tip of his wand into the dour man's throat until he was once more seated. "Draco, go into the store cupboard and bring me any bottle you can find that is labelled 'Veritaserum'. Harry, come and search through the drawers in his desk, and Blaise you can look on the shelves, seeing as you are the tallest." The three did as they were told, Harry having to squirm past the two men to get to the desk.

The first two drawers were open, and filled with an assortment of marked and unmarked student essays, but the third was locked. Harry scowled when it failed to move when he pulled on the handle, and slid his wand from its holster.

"_Alohomora_!" he hissed, frown disappearing as it tugged free. He heard a gasp from above him, and turned to see both elder men looking at him with widened eyes. "Problem?" Harry queried, his scowl reappearing.

"That is a fairly advanced charm, Harry." Lucius explained, but the Professor shook his head in disagreement.

"Mister Potter, pull on the drawer below that one," he instructed. After a brief nod from Lucius, Harry did as he was bid. It, too, was locked. "Lucius, cast the same spell on that drawer." Lucius's wand moved swiftly to point at the drawer.

"_Alohomora_!" Lucius intoned in an almost bored drawl, wand back at the Potions Master's neck as soon as the spell had been cast. Harry tugged at the drawer. It stayed shut. Lucius frowned.

"Now you, Mister Potter." Harry cast the charm, and tugged at the drawer. It opened. Lucius gaped.

"How-?" He turned to the other man, eyes narrowed. "How is that possible?"

"Power, Lucius," the other man breathed with a smirk. "Pure power." Their resulting introspection was interrupted moments later by near simultaneous shouts of - 'Got some!' and 'Here it is!' from Blaise and Draco respectively.

The two boys proudly presented several bottles, all of differing shapes, sizes and colours. Draco had seven, whilst Blaise had four. Lucius gestured them over to the desk, where he began to sort them, speaking as he did so.

"Now, Veritaserum is completely colourless, so the black one, the yellow one, the purple one and the green one are out." He began uncorking the rest and sniffing them. "Veritaserum is also odourless. This one smells like Aconite, this one like Knotgrass and this one like Lovage. Now, Veritaserum is very alike to water, so looking at the consistency, this one is too thick." Harry cocked his head at the three bottles left in the centre of the table.

"So, those three are Veritaserum?" he asked slowly. Lucius shook his head.

"One of them will be the antidote, one will be water and the other will be Veritaserum." Harry frowned at Lucius's response.

"So, how do we tell?" Blaise asked nervously. Lucius smirked.

"You three have volunteered to be testers." Draco groaned, Blaise swore, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Stop being so dramatic!" Harry snapped, impatiently snagging the middle bottle. "It's not as if they're going to ask anything invasive, or as if any of us will be taking the full dose." He glared at Lucius, making sure the elder man got his point.

"Of course… I'll ask about your favourite food. You're to try to say that your favourite food is sprouts." Lucius smiled, chivalrously ignoring the snort of disgust from his son. "Which, for Draco, is obviously true." The group smirked at the sarcasm as Lucius pushed a bottle each to Blaise and Draco. "Press the tip of the bottle to your finger, upend it, put the bottle back on the table and suck your finger."

"Always the complicated instructions with you," Draco grumbled, but the three did as they were told, sharing a single, slightly nervous glance before sucking on their fingers.

"Draco, what is your favourite food?" Lucius began.

"Sprouts," Draco winced as he said it.

"Harry, what is your favourite food?"

"Spiders." There was an awkward pause as every head in the room titled to one side as they looked at him. "That was a joke. Ask me again."

"Harry, what is your favourite food?"

"Sprouts. See, I said it!"

"Blaise, what is your favourite food?" Lucius sighed.

"Onions dipped in chocolate." Again, every head tilted, although looking at a different child. "It's actually really nice, you should try it sometime."

"Even spider-boy passes on that, Blaise." Harry shook his head at his friend. "But I think we have some questions for our Professor, before we talk about your… weird foods." The smiles on the faces of the three boys quickly faded as they turned to stare solemnly at their Potions Professor. Lucius cleared his throat.

"Let's set a couple of boundaries, first. You three will not ask Severus questions, you may ask me to ask him certain questions, please also note my phrasing of questions." Lucius raised an eyebrow until Harry, Draco and finally Blaise nodded in agreement. "Limits on the questions. Severus, is there anything that you would rather not answer questions on?"

"The war. _Him. Her._" The Professor looked at Harry at his last word, Harry frowned curiously. "You must also understand that I have made vows - I will tell you if you ask a subject on one of those matters."

"If you tell me of a vow, I will rescind the question." Lucius agreed. "Are we settled?" At four nods, he took the bottle that sat in front of Blaise, and carefully shook three drops into the Potions Master's mouth.

"What is your full _birth_ name?" Lucius started off slowly.

"Severus Marcello Vox Snape." Harry tilted his head to Blaise.

"Latin?" the darker boy mouthed back with a shrug, before returning to focus on the others.

"Do you mean any harm to any of the students at this school?" Lucius asked, after a moments pause.

"No," the Professor admitted immediately.

"Have you ever intentionally caused harm to a student at this school?"

"No," came the quick answer. Lucius nodded, apparently satisfied with that area of questioning.

"To the best of your knowledge, why did Harry Potter have trouble with his broom today?" He changed tactics, obviously hoping to learn more about earlier events.

"It was being jinxed." The Professor's tone was very neutral. Harry absently wondered if it was the Professor, or the potion that made it so.

"Were you jinxing the broom?" Lucius was speaking more quickly now, question followed by question with little pause.

"No,"

"Did you attempt to help the situation?" Harry held his breath - this was the moment of truth for him - could he, or could he _not _trust the Professor?

"Yes," Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"How did you attempt to help the situation?" Lucius had calmed down by now, more sure that his friend hadn't been trying to hurt the children in his care.

"I cast a counter-jinx."

"Do you know who was jinxing the broom?"

"No,"

"Do you have suspicions as to who was jinxing the broom?"

"Yes,"

"Who do you suspect of jinxing the broom?"

"I have taken a vow which prevents me from voicing these suspicions." Lucius sighed, and turned to the three boys.

"Do any of you have any questions for the Professor? Direct them at _me,_ please." He stared fiercely at Blaise, who seemed the most likely to disobey.

"Is the person he suspects Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked after a moment. "And why didn't he distract Quirrell, rather than using a counter jinx that could have failed?" Lucius nodded in approval.

"Very pertinent questions, Harry," he smiled genuinely, showing off his perfect teeth. "Severus, do you suspect Quirinus Quirrell of sabotaging Harry Potter's broom, this afternoon?"

"I have taken a vow which prevents me from _confirming_ these suspicions." The Professor answered slyly, knowing that none of the Slytherins in the room would miss the subtle emphasis he put onto the word.

"Why did you choose to perform a counter-jinx, rather than any other measure to help Harry Potter this afternoon?" Lucius asked, a half-smile still on his face from the previous answer.

"Because a counter-jinx could have been used by any staff member, and did not reveal my suspicions."

"How could we find out what's been going on in the school?" Blaise asked into the silence. Lucius glared darkly at him, but was too late to prevent the Potions Master from answering.

"Speak to Rubeus Hagrid - the man couldn't keep a secret to save his life. Better still to ply him with alcohol. If y-"

"Severus, you may dismiss that question." Lucius said softly, before turning to Blaise with an expression full of ice. "_What _were you thinking of? I specifically ordered you to direct any questions to me!"

"Was that I a question you would have allowed me to ask?" Blaise returned, eyebrows raised. "I didn't think so," he said into the silence, moments later.

"Which bottle contains the antidote?" Lucius asked the Professor wearily, giving up on disciplining Blaise.

"None of the bottles contain an antidote. The conical flask and the vial with the silver stopper do however contain a neutralising agent for Veritaserum." Lucius pushed the smaller vial to the Professor, and then stopped his hand from reaching for it, leaning in closely to ask another question that Harry couldn't hear.

What Harry saw, however was a different matter. Lucius let go of Professor Snape's hand, and let the darker man reach for the vial. The Potions Master held it in front of his face, eyes flickering from the bottle to Lucius' eyes. Seeming to come to a decision, he spoke.

"No." And then the vial was at his lips.

It took an entire half hour for Professor Snape to regain some of his equilibrium, and most of that time was spent assigning appropriate punishments to Blaise. Blaise couldn't be given detentions or a point loss as that would mean having to explain to the rest of the House, and to the Headmaster the circumstances in which Blaise lost the points. The Potions Master eventually settled for giving Blaise study time with the Professor, which would no doubt amount to the same as a detention would. Blaise also had to clean the first year's bathroom every day for a month before going to bed, and, considering how messy Vince and Greg were, Harry was in no doubt that Blaise would get very little sleep in the next four weeks.

Thankfully, Draco's father had managed to calm down the other man with the judicious application of strong tea and éclairs, although the younger generation drank hot chocolate instead. It seemed that the House Elves particularly liked Professor Snape, as when he asked for refills of the original drinks the hot chocolates at least had whipped cream and marshmallows.

"So, everybody's calmed down now?" Lucius asked into the warm silence. A round of nods, from Harry, Draco and Blaise, and a grunt, from the Professor, followed. Lucius smiled widely. "Good, then I can get down to the other reason I'm here - Christmas!" Professor Snape groaned, and his head hit his desk with a rather loud thump.

"I'm not doing it again!" came his muffled voice. "Not this year. You tell your wife that she can lift the restrictions, or I won't come."

"Harry, Narcissa and I were wondering if you would like to stay at the Manor for Christmas? I wasn't sure if you'd want to go back to your Aunt and Uncle, and Slytherin very rarely has students stay in school during the holidays." Lucius ignored the Potions Master completely.

"That's very kind of you, Mister Malfoy, but I wouldn't want to be a burden to you…" Harry smiled self-deprecatingly. "I'd been planning to stay with my family, anyway."

"No, Harry, come and stay!" Draco spoke up next. "We'll have loads of fun! And we always have students from the school come too! Last year we had Graham Montague come, and… Josef Yaxley, wasn't it?" Lucius nodded in agreement. Harry shot a curious glance over at his Professor - he'd met Marcus and Josef at their weekly 'support group'. Perhaps Lucius inviting round students wasn't just for Draco's benefit.

"Harry, I assure you that you'd be no burden at all. We enjoy having friends stay with us. Your Professor, here," he gestured at the man still face down on the desk. "Will be with us for at least part of the holidays as well. Also, I'm fairly sure that my wife will string me up if I can't convince at least one of my son's best friends to stay with us."

"Come on Harry, please!" Draco said in a tone of voice that would have been classified as begging, had it not been Draco using it.

"If you're sure…" Harry acquiesced awkwardly. "Thank you, Mister Ma-"

"_Lucius_," Draco's father admonished gently. "And Mister Zabini, I would offer you the same, but your Mother has already promised to bring you for a visit. You'll be staying a night or two, if that suits you?"

"Love to, Mister M," Blaise smiled widely. "I'm surprised Mother's giving me up for so long."

"It's _Lucius _to you too, young man," Lucius told Blaise with slightly narrowed eyes. "Now, Severus, the conditions for this Christmas."

"No,"

"Narcissa has decreed…"

"No,"

"That you are to…"

"No,"

"Wear a colour other than black or green."

"No," _Pause._ "Is that _it?_"

"Yes. Narcissa understands that she may have… overstepped the mark, last year. I believe this is somewhat of an apology."

"It will suffice." The Potions Master lifted his head from his desk, finally seeming to notice the three students that still stood there. "Go back to the party, you three. Actually, give this to the DJ, when you go." He scrawled for a moment on a piece of parchment, then handed it over to Harry.

"Thank you Professor," Harry smiled as he glanced down at the words on the page, refusing to let Blaise and Draco stare at it until they'd left the office.

_ Snakes,_

_ My apologies for disturbing your party earlier._

_ Congratulations on your well deserved win. In deference to this, all_

_ in-house curfews are lifted for tonight only. Enjoy._

_ Professor S. Snape_

Needless to say, the entirety of Slytherin House missed breakfast the next morning, to the puzzlement of all but their favourite Professor.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

By a quarter of an hour before lunch, more than half of the Slytherin students were already seated at their table. Several of the older students were sporting hangovers, and most of the first years were drifting around rubbing futilely at their bleary eyes. The prefects had done the rounds to get everybody out of bed for the meal, knowing that the youngest were likely to be the loudest to complain if they didn't eat.

Draco and Harry were making enthusiastic plans for their Christmas, with Draco sharing the usual activities the Malfoy family engaged in. Blaise sat next to them, head buried in his hands. He'd been the last first-year to succumb to sleep, and had, that morning, sworn to having a hangover. Harry wasn't entirely sure whether or not to believe that his friend had charmed a sixth-year into letting him have some Firewhiskey.

"Hey, Josef, you remember last Christmas, don't you?" Draco called over to the older boy who sat across from them, and to their left. "Tell Harry it's not so bad, staying at the Manor." Josef smirked, and changed places, moving down the table towards Harry and Draco.

"Of course I do," Josef told them with a smile. "It was great. Apart from the nickname."

"Nickname?" Harry asked, looking between Draco and Josef, who had both burst into fits of laughter. Well, Draco was in fits of laughter, Josef was chuckling to himself - happier than Harry had seen him in the few months they'd been at school.

"M… Mother," Draco bit out, between snorts of laughter. "Gives everyone… nicknames."

"That's bad?" Harry raised a speculative eyebrow. _Dudley always had nicknames,_ he thought resentfully. _And now Draco and Josef got them too. What did I do that was so bad?_

"I was _Sef _for three weeks," Josef admitted. "Narcissa isn't really like anyone else. _Jo_, I've had for years, but _Sef?_ Lovely woman though, honestly you won't meet anyone quite as nice."

"Oh, Harry met my parents when we first met, in the summer already," Draco began to speak with a smile, but was interrupted as a platter of sandwiches and other foods appeared on the table, and every student present dug in.

Draco had finally consented to speak with Granger after the troll incident (apparently, he'd been struggling to pay attention in History of Magic too), so, after lunch the three headed up to the library to meet her, in an attempt to finish their mountain of homework. Draco had nearly all of his work done, but Harry had been busy with Quidditch practices, and Blaise had been… being Blaise.

They had been studying for about half an hour when Weasley turned up with his cronies, a Muggle-born called Dean Thomas, and a Half-Blood called Seamus Finnegan (Draco had made it a point to learn the Blood status of every student he might feasibly come into contact with, Harry hadn't seen the harm in it). He leaned over the table in a fashion that would have been menacing if he hadn't been trembling slightly as he did so.

"Potter, you and me, let's duel!" he spat. Harry leaned back and smirked.

"Sure. Astronomy tower, tonight, midnight." Harry said, after a moment's thought. "Draco, you'll second for me, right?" At the blonde's nod, Harry looked to the redhead.

"Fine, I'll be there!" The three Gryffindors stalked out of the library, leaving the Slytherins to laugh. Hermione stared at them, outraged.

"Harry! There's no way you can duel him! That's against the rules!" She looked aghast at the idea, so as soon as he could stop laughing, Harry took pity on her.

"Don't be daft, Hermione. I didn't tell him I was actually going. Professor Snape might just turn up there instead."

The Ravenclaw laughed so hard they were thrown out of the library.


	14. Chapter 14: Yule Tidings

- Chapter 14 -

Yule Tidings

Weasley and Finnegan had lost their House a total of fifty points between them for their midnight wanderings, and a further twenty for sending three teachers on a manhunt through the castle for the corresponding Slytherins. Rumour had it that when Professor McGonagall had complained that the Slytherin Head of House hadn't helped them search, the Potions Master had merely smirked and responded that he had known that all of his Slytherins had been in Slytherin territory. Consequently, for the next three weeks not a single student of Slytherin House overstayed their curfew.

The run up to Christmas had seemed to take forever to Draco and Blaise, but was gone in the blink of an eye for Harry, who was still nervous about spending the holiday with Draco's family. Despite having met them before, Harry still found it difficult to fathom living in a house without fear, although thanks to the group sessions with Professor Snape, he was adjusting.

Harry, Draco and Blaise had shared a carriage with Daphne Greengrass and Hermione Granger. The two girls sat together with one of Daphne's magazines between them. The others had taken one look at the giggling girls and had retreated to the other side of the compartment to play exploding snap.

When they left the train, they soon saw Lucius and Narcissa, who stood off to one side of the platform talking with a beautiful woman. She was olive-skinned, like Blaise, and had long, straight black hair that hung down to her waist. Despite the similarities between her and Blaise, Harry was still surprised when Blaise ran to her.

"Mama!" he called, a wide smile on his face. "Mama, I've missed you!" She smiled back toothily, wrapping her arms around him. To their left stood Narcissa, and Draco; a similar picture.

Harry stood shyly apart from them, arms crossed, self-consciously across his chest. _It's not fair,_ he thought angrily. _Why can't I have somebody to hug _me_?_ He sniffed and stared resolutely at his shoes.

"Harry!" Harry started at the arm clamped around his shoulders, but forced himself to calm when he realised it was Draco's father. "So glad you're staying with us, this Christmas!"

Lucius kept his arm around Harry as they waited for the other Hogwarts students who would be joining them.

Harry was pleasantly surprised to find Josef Yaxley among them, seeing as he had stayed with the Malfoys for the previous Yule. Also sharing Christmas with them was Olivia Mayfield. It was a pity, really, that Daphne had decided not to come.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

It had turned out that it was Professor Snape who organised where his students spent their holidays. He'd called each student into his office, and asked about their plans for the holiday. Harry's interview had been relatively short, but Daphne had been with the Professor for ages.

Eventually, the dour man had stuck his head out of his door, and called for Harry to come back. Daphne had been curled up in a chair, sobbing. At Harry's questioning look, and raised eyebrow the Professor had spoken.

"She was asking for you," he said simply. Harry had nodded and moved over to his friend, gently rubbing soothing circles on her back - a trick he'd learnt from watching Jacob Blishwick attempt to calm his distraught fiancé, Marylyn Max, one night in the common room. It appeared to work for Daphne too, as the girl calmed herself some, throwing her arms around Harry.

"Miss Greengrass," the deep voice of their Professor had the pair springing apart, both sporting slight blushes, although Harry wasn't entirely sure why. "Are you calm enough to speak with me now?"

"C...ca… can Harry stay with me, sir? While I talk to you?" With a roll of his eyes, Professor Snape conjured another chair, and motioned for both of the first years to sit.

"Now, Miss Greengrass, remembering that Mister Potter here, nor I will speak of this, I would like you to know that I would much rather you did not go home for Christmas." For barely a moment, Harry wondered at the man's motives, before remembering that Daphne was part of the support group, and while her injuries hadn't been _bad _per se, but they had been _there_, and were likely to return if Daphne went home. "Especially not when there are other places that you may spend the holiday."

"I… I would _love _to go somewhere else, but I can't." She bit her lip, and tightened her grip on Harry's hand. "I've got a sister, Professor, Astoria, and she's already been with my Mother since September. I _need _to see her, I _need _to make sure that she's alright." She blinked rapidly, and Harry could see her eyes begin to water again.

"Then it will be as you wish, Miss Greengrass." The Professor pursed his lips, and frowned slightly. "But I shall be sending you with nutrient potions, and healing salves." He paused, then added - "Enough for two for the holidays, and extra for one until the summer." He smiled kindly at Daphne, then narrowed his eyes. "If they are not necessary, I will be expecting them to be returned, is that understood?"

Daphne nodded solemnly, before smiling brightly at the Professor.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered, dragging Harry from the room.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Harry shook his head, bringing himself back into the present. Their party had left the station, and were currently taking two cars to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had wondered about the cars, but Lucius had explained that, as they were in a Muggle environment, they had to do their best to blend in. When they got the near derelict pub, Lucius and Narcissa directed the group inside, and they stood together near to the fireplace.

"We're going to Floo to Malfoy Manor," Narcissa said authoritatively, pulling out a small wooden box from her handbag. She held it out to her husband, first, who took a pinch, before throwing it into the fire, which turned green. He then stepped into the flames, calling out as he did so.

"Malfoy Manor," he said in a deep voice. The flames roared upwards, and when they had died back down, Lucius had disappeared. Harry's eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing as the others seemed perfectly sanguine with what had just happened.

"Josef, you go next," Narcissa held the box to the older boy, who smiled and did as Lucius had, followed by Olivia, leaving only Narcissa, Harry and Draco left in the Leaky Cauldron. Draco turned to Harry immediately.

"See, I told you it wasn't as bad as it sounded!" He smirked.

"Draco, it still looks kinda bad - they all just _disappeared!_" Harry shook his head, before laughing a little. "I'm okay to go next, I think. But if anything happens to me, I'm blaming you!" Narcissa looked between the pair, obviously confused.

"Harry, sweetheart, I thought you didn't know much about the Wizarding world," she asked gently, bending down so that she was at the same level as both boys. Pausing, then smiling widely, she turned to Draco. "Honey, have you been teaching Harry about the Wizarding world?"

"Yes, but so has everyone in Slytherin too. We've been taking turns to tell him about stuff he needs to know." Draco raised his chin proudly. "We did travel way back in September, mother, just give him the Floo powder." Narcissa looked to Harry, who nodded, looking more confident than he felt, and offered him the box.

Harry took a pinch of the bright green powder, and threw it into the fire. As with the others, the flames turned the same colour as the powder. Harry stepped in and spoke as loudly, and as clearly as he could.

"Malfoy Manor!" The flames around him grew past his head, and span around him. He kept his elbows tucked in, arms close to his sides as Marcus Flint had told him back at school. He idly noticed that the flames were cool to the touch, rather than hot, as would normally be expected of fire. Almost before he knew it, the flames span erratically, and he was pushed out through another fireplace. He stumbled as he stepped out, and blinked, furiously trying not to fall.

Strong arms gripped him, and Harry looked up to smile at Josef Yaxley, who had apparently been standing waiting for Harry to come through.

"My first time through the Floo on my own, I tumbled out, and knocked over a vase," he said, sotto voce. "Compared to that, your stumble is really quite graceful." Josef pulled him to one side, where Olivia and Lucius stood, as the flames turned green again, as Draco entered the room, followed in short order by Narcissa.

The elder Malfoy woman frowned at her husband, as she ran a pointed eye over the assembled children.

"Really, Lucius, would it have been difficult to cast a cleaning charm at any of them?" Lucius had the grace to look down at his feet, causing Narcissa to narrow her eyes at him as well. "You haven't cast one on yourself, have you? I just can't see it as you're wearing black!" She shook her head at her husband's unrepentant smirk, waving her wand over each person, cleaning them of soot.

"Thank you, Mrs Malfoy," Harry said politely, as he was cleaned up.

"Ooh, that reminds me of the house rules!" Narcissa said gleefully, ignoring the groans from the other two blondes. "Follow me to the sitting room, everyone!" Once they were all comfortable sat in the Malfoys tastefully decorated lounge, Narcissa clapped her hands. "House rule number one; everybody has a nickname, of my choosing. Those of us who already have nicknames will introduce ourselves." She stood, and curtsied gently. "I'm Sa, like the end of my name, Narcissa!"

"I am known as Ci, as in the second syllable of Lucius."

"It's Ray like the middle of Draco."

"I'm Sef,"

Narcissa smiled widely at the two who were left; they sat looking nervously at each other. She looked at Olivia first.

"Olivia's a hard one, most things are already nicknames. Hmm, I think it'll have to be Liv. Is that okay?" When the small girl nodded, she turned to Harry. "Well then, Mister, I think you and Draco will have to match, a little. You're Ree, that suit you?" Harry smiled, but it was Draco who got the link first.

"Ray and Ree! Mother, you're terrible," he said fondly.

"Rule number two; Christmas is supposed to be fun, so have fun. No more than two hours of working a day, although Sef, you can work up to three, seeing as you have your N.E.W.T.s this year. Rule three; if you need anything, Lucius and I are always here for you. Everything else, you'll pick up. Now the fun part, choosing bedrooms!"

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Narcissa, Harry reflected, was an enigma. The woman had taken them around every guest bedroom twice before settling on the ones she'd originally suggested. Harry's room was near to Draco's, allowing the two of them to spend much of the holidays together. The Malfoys, as a family were fairly easygoing, and once Harry had gotten used to being called to dinner as Ree, and he and Draco were spending most of their time either exploring the Manor, or flying through the gardens. Josef and Olivia sometimes joined them for their flights, and Harry was delighted to be able to play a bastardised version of Quidditch with the help of Lucius who enchanted two Keepers for them.

Harry was surprised to find that flying didn't come easy to all, however. While Josef and Olivia could happily sit on brooms, neither of them was comfortable with the daredevil stunts that Harry was teaching Draco.

Lucius and Narcissa, for their parts, were particularly good hosts. Whenever Josef came downstairs frowning over an essay he was struggling with, one of the pair would guide him to the relevant books in the library, or even talk him through the smallest details. Narcissa even had Olivia help her decide upon decorations for the Manor, and together they went shopping and bought Christmas outfits for every person living in the Manor.

On the twentieth they all went to Diagon Alley together to shop for Christmas presents. Harry, Draco and Olivia were warned to stay with either Lucius or Narcissa and not to wander off, and through a series of relays, and switching of shopping partners, Harry was finally happy with the presents he'd gotten for everyone.

For Josef, Harry had bought a gigantic compendium of complex Potions, having had several conversations where the elder boy had utterly lost him with elaborations on tiny changes of temperature, and of inert ingredients. Lucius had promised to take charge of wrapping a delicate floral glass statuette that Harry had bought for Narcissa. He'd been entranced with the way it sparkled under light, and Lucius had assured him that Narcissa would love it too. For Olivia, Harry had bought a butterfly shaped hairgrip with amber stones making up the wings. Narcissa had helped Harry to find a black, leather wand holster to fit her husband's wand, sharing the story of how he had damaged the one he wore now brewing a potion that had gone wrong.

For Hermione, Harry had bought a big, rather expensive, book on the many differences between Magicals and Muggles, which Hedwig had carried off to wherever she lived. A box full of pranking ingredients was winging its way to Blaise and Harry couldn't help but hope his friend would bring them to school with him at the start of the new term.

Harry struggled the most with buying a present for Draco. He wanted to get something _perfect _for his first friend, for his best friend. Lucius helped him to find a book on Quidditch manoeuvres, and while he was with Narcissa he spotted a dragon-shaped cloak clasp, but just as they were about to leave, Harry managed to unearth a mini-model of a Chinese Fireball that moved around, and breathed fake-fire. Harry was smiling by the time they got back to the Manor; finally happy with the gifts he'd bought.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

The twenty-second fell on a Sunday, something which appeared to please Lucius enormously, as did the arrival of Professor Snape, whom Narcissa enthusiastically greeted as 'Russ'. They all woke early, and, before breakfast, Lucius led the entire household out into the wood to the West of the Manor that Harry and Draco had been banned from exploring. They walked quietly, but with smiles, until they found themselves at a wide circle of trees, each one different. Narcissa moved to stand in front of the largest tree, taking her wand from its holster, and gesturing for the rest of the group to come up behind her.

"This is the Great Oak of the Manor, and this Yule, I am going to ask for it to provide us with a base for our Yule log. Ree, hold your arms straight out, and be prepared to catch something fairly heavy, okay?" Harry nodded resolutely, and did as he was told. Narcissa leaned in close to the tree, pressing her face, both hands and her wand to the wood, whispering so softly that Harry couldn't hear what she had said.

Harry fought not to stagger as the heavy wood simply appeared in his arms, gritting his teeth and holding on with everything that he had. Narcissa turned to him with a wide smile.

"Here, I'll cast a lightening charm." She tapped her wand over the wood, and Harry immediately felt it reduce in weight by about a half. "Now, Ray, I need you to collect Ash, Sef, you collect Aspen. Liv, the Birch tree is just over there," she pointed, before turning to her husband. "Ci, my darling strong husband, find us some Pine and Russ some Willow. I'll get Holly myself, and Harry will stay with the Oak." She hummed happily to herself as the group spread out. "Just a small branch, or a couple of twigs!" She called after them.

Once they'd collected all that they needed, they made their way back to the Manor, where they gathered in the largest sitting room. Harry did as Lucius told him, gently putting the Oak down in the centre of the brazier that had been set up. The others placed their pieces of wood on top of it. Lucius held his wand over the pile with a grin, and started to speak.

"Here is Pine, for growth and prosperity!" Stepping a little to the left, he spoke again. "Ash, for protection and health!" Each time he spoke, he stepped to the left again. "Aspen, to help us to understand the grand design that is life!" Step. "Holly, to inspire in us visions, and revelations of our past lives!" Step. "Willow, to please the Goddess, who may choose to help us achieve our desires!" Step. "Birch, to signify the beginning of the new year, and the new beginnings in our lives!" Step. "We ask that you meld with the Great Oak, who brings healing, strength and wisdom!" Harry watched in fascination. Lucius' last step brought him to the same point that he had started, and - there was no other word for it - the wood began to _melt _into the Oaken log.

They stood in silence until the wood had blended together, then, under Narcissa's direction, arranged themselves behind Lucius. Severus and Narcissa each had a hand on Lucius' shoulders. Behind Narcissa were Harry and Draco, and behind Severus were Olivia and Josef. Again, Lucius' wand flared out over the wood.

"_Incendio_," he breathed. Then, "May the log burn, May the wheel turn, May evil spurn, May the Sun return." Narcissa and Severus repeated it with him at the next turn, and then, at a nudge from Draco, Harry understood that they all spoke the third and final time.

"And that, darlings, is this year's Yule log!" Narcissa beamed. "Now, breakfast, I think."

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

When Harry awoke on Christmas morning, it was to a very different sight than there ever had been at the Dursley's, where he had been locked into his cupboard for the duration so he couldn't spoil their holiday. Whilst he'd been asleep, his bed had been covered with a warm woollen blanket covered with Christmas insignia, and at the foot of his bed was a large stocking with a reindeer embroidered onto it. Taking a moment to stare reverently at them, Harry gaped to see his name included in both designs.

While he was still stroking his hand over his name on the blanket his door flew open, and Draco scurried in, huddled in his own blanket with a similar stocking in his hand. He grinned toothily at Harry as he launched himself onto Harry's bed.

"Harry," he whispered gently, touching Harry's shoulder to bring him out of his stupor. "Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry whispered back uncertainly.

"IT'S CHRISTMAS!" Draco yelled as loudly as he could. Harry grinned widely. Apparently, this year's Christmas would be fun.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

All through the day, Harry was shocked, time and time again by the amount of care that the Malfoy family put into the holiday. Harry had a pile of presents that was bigger than any pile that Dudley had ever been given, all full of brilliant things like strange sweets and wizarding toys, clothes and ornaments for his room at the Manor.

"It is _your _room, in any case, Harry. You can keep some of your things here, if you'd like." Narcissa told him with a smile. "We plan to have you here more often than you're not."

"But what about the Dursleys?" Harry had asked, an earnest expression on his face, mind already calculating how much time he could spend away from his relatives.

"Don't worry, dear." Her smile had turned cold then, and a little vicious. "Lucius is making plans for _them_."

Her face had turned back into a sunny smile, however, the next time he looked, and they carried on to the biggest, and best-tasting Christmas dinner that Harry had ever had.

It was a little disconcerting to see Lucius and Narcissa treating him as they treated Draco, but as none of the others seemed to see anything wrong with it, Harry soon grew to enjoy the day.

As he closed his eyes to sleep that night, Harry had a smile on his face. Things were finally going right. Better even, perhaps, than what he'd seen in the mirror.


	15. Chapter 15: Secrets

- Chapter 15 -

Secrets

Harry was sad to see the last of the Malfoy family, but found himself slightly more comfortable in the now-familiar environment of Hogwarts. His first night back, however, he found himself sneaking out of the House once more, making his way up to the room that housed the Mirror.

He was careful not to wake any of his dorm mates, and not to let himself be seen by any portrait or ghost. It seemed to take forever for him to even get out of the dungeons, let alone up the several flights of stairs that stood between him and the room he'd passed so many night in…

He sighed in relief as he finally closed the door behind him, jumping in shock at the low chuckle that accompanied his sigh. There, standing next to the prized mirror, was the Headmaster. Harry hadn't really paid too much attention to the man, seeing as he was almost always off interfering with the Ministry, and not paying much attention to the school, but looking at him now, Harry was glad he didn't have to see him much.

His robes were, possibly, the worst that Harry had ever seen; a bright mauve colour, they clashed with his much more sober navy shoes. His long, white beard only served to enhance the bright colour of the robes, and his bright blue eyes _twinkled _incessantly. Really, Harry realised, if he had to see the man anymore than at meal times it would get quite annoying.

"So - back again, Harry?"

Harry could have sworn that everything inside him was plunged to negative three million degrees, he felt so cold. The Headmaster had been spying on him. For weeks, certainly. And he had noticed nothing.

"Good evening, Headmaster." Harry spoke calmly despite his insides churning with nerves, deciding that it was better to ignore the question. Confirming it could only lead to detention, and denying it if the man knew would only lead to more.

"Do you know what the Mirror of Erised does, Harry?" He asked, opening his mouth again, as if to answer what he had clearly meant as a rhetorical question, but Harry beat him to the punch.

"Of course, sir. It was quite simple to work out, as I'm sure you know." Harry smiled tightly at the old man, not willing to let him think that he could be condescending.

"Do, ah, _enlighten _me to your opinions, Harry. I will correct you as needed." Harry gritted his teeth to prevent a torrent of scathing insults from flowing from his tongue. _Buffoon!_ He thought to himself.

"It shows what the person looking into it desires most." Harry kept his answer simple enough that there would be no corrections needed. Elaborations, he could stand, but if the bearded idiot corrected him, he thought that he might spontaneously combust.

"Very true, Harry. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real, or even possible. It is not something for a child of your age to be looking into." He said the last sentence gravely, causing Harry to come very close to snorting.

"Why not for someone my age?" Harry asked curiously.

"Because your desires are ever-changing, Harry." Dumbledore smiled genially. "Look into the mirror again."

Harry flicked a glance up at the man, with his eyes narrowed. Dumbledore just gestured for him to step in front of the mirror. Harry took a deep breath, and stared at his deepest desire. Dumbledore was right; it had changed.

He was at Malfoy Manor. Narcissa hugging him, Lucius mouthing the word 'son'. Struck with horror, Harry couldn't tear his eyes away. Did he really want to take Draco's place? His friend, his best friend walked into the scene in the mirror, diving at Harry, his teeth bared. They rolled over, and over on the floor, until Harry landed on top. He could almost hear the words as his Mirror-counterpart mouthed them. 'Nice try, Ray.' And Draco smiled back, 'I'll get you next time, little bro'.

Harry inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't want to replace Draco. He wanted to _join _him. Join his family.

And what a dream that was. How wonderful, how magical would it be to be a part of the Malfoy family? Ruthless and feared from the outside, strong and loving from the inside. It was just a shame that Harry probably would never know how Draco felt. But, at least for now, he could share in some small part of it. For now, that would have to be enough.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

For once, that next morning, Harry wasn't the first to wake. He was most definitely not amused by the laughter of his dorm mates as he bolted upright with his wand pointed straight at the sound of the loud, ringing bell. The prefect his wand was pointed at was less amused, but impressed with Harry's reaction.

"That's the way to survive, Harry." The sandy haired boy told him. "Maybe next time roll to the side though? That way you'll dodge the spell if that's the sound you hear."

Harry nodded in agreement, then rolled out of bed to get ready for the first day back in classes. Harry thought that it was a bit daft to start back at classes on a Friday, but as it meant he had double Magical Sports, _and _double Potions, he wasn't likely to complain.

The first years all trooped down to breakfast together, still swapping tales of the presents they'd gotten, the things they'd missed from home along with the things they hadn't!

"Mum kept trying to treat me like a little kid," Vince complained. "She doesn't really get that I learnt to look after myself a bit, here."

"Oh, don't lie to yourself!" Theo butted in, unusually talkative for once. "We barely do anything here, what with all of the house elves, and the Prefects to help."

"So glad to see that we're appreciated." Came a voice from behind them. Harry smiled recognising the prefect that had led them to the common room their first night, Montague. He walked with them until they reached the Great Hall, moving off to talk to sit with some of his older friends.

"So, first day back, what do you two say to having some good, old fashioned fun?" Blaise waggled his eyebrows suggestively and dropped his voice. "My stepfather bought me a Zonkos deluxe set - even shrunk it down to hide in my trunk."

"Not tonight Blaise." Harry looked to Draco as he spoke as well. "We've got to deliver a Christmas present."

"Harry, its January, you do know that right? Bit late for presents!" With another cheeky waggle he leaned forwards, narrowly avoiding dunking his elbow in the tinned tomatoes. "Who we going to see then?"

"Hagrid," Draco revealed, and for the rest of the day neither he nor Harry would be drawn on the subject other than to repeat the words 'It'll be fun.'

Blaise thought that they both completely understood how utterly ominous that statement was.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

After dinner, the three of them set out on their trek to Hagrid's hut, merrily trudging through the as yet unmelted snow. As they walked, Blaise made a hearty attempt to fill his two friends in on all of the gossip he'd gleaned from a third year 'Puff that had stayed at Hogwarts over the break.

"Apparently they've had to change the sixth year Gryffindor boys prefect; he got caught with a fourth year in one of the broom closets by his _girlfriend_, who cursed him all the way up to the seventh floor where Dumbledore caught them. Apparently _she_'s been in the infirmary a _week_ dosed up on Calming Draughts!"

Harry and Draco laughed at the appropriate moments, but mostly tried to concentrate on taking turns levitating the crate that had grown exponentially upon its removal from Draco's trunk. Harry knocked the door (or banged it really, as the door looked to heavy for a knuckle-rap to be effective) as he was the only one who'd actually had a conversation with the half-giant gameskeeper before.

Hagrid looked slightly troubled to see Harry, although Harry would swear that the glare was directed more at the emblem on his robes than his face. He affected a cheery smile and bright tone.

"Hi Hagrid." He made sure to widen his eyes and meet the elder man's gaze innocently. "I got you a Christmas present!" He gestured to the crate, then smiled sadly, looking up from underneath half-lids. "I'm sorry it's a bit late, but I could only get it in the holiday, and I didn't know if I should get you a present, but you were so nice, and you were the first person I met, and I really liked you, and I wondered if you might want to maybe be my friend?"

Just as Harry had planned, Hagrid visibly softened, beckoning them in with his big hands.

"Yeh'll 'ave teh intr'duce me teh yeh frien's, Harry, I don' rightly know 'em!" Hagrid said once they were all seated.

"Well, this is Draco, and this is Blaise. They're in my dorm with me, and I stayed at Draco's house this holiday!" Harry made a particular effort to sound like a happy, chirpy child. "Will you open my present now?"

"O'course," Hagrid agreed, tapping the lid with his pink umbrella so that it popped open. He lifted the lid, and placed it on the floor, next to the crate. "Where did'ja get this from, eh? What d'ya mean by this?"

Blaise and Draco stiffened, hands subtly searching out their wands, but Harry widened his eyes, and shook his head with small movements.

"I... I... I just wanted you to be my friend!" Harry's bottom lip quivered, artificially of course. "Mr Malfoy helped me, cause I said I didn't really know you that well but he said that he thought any man would like wine 'n Firewhiskey, cause he does. Don't you like it? I... I could get something else, if you want, but then I'd have to wait till the next holidays to ch-"

"It's perfec', Harry," Hagrid interrupted, pulling out a bottle of the stronger whisky, just as Harry had intended when he'd asked Lucius to put a strong compulsion charm on the bottle. "In fac', I think I migh' jus' 'ave some now!"

Harry beamed up at him, although, from the glint in his eyes, Blaise and Draco could be forgiven for thinking it was a sneer. Hagrid, however, could not, or _would _not, see the subtleties that marked out Harry's smile as false.

The three young Slytherins made idle conversation surrounding their impressions of Hogwarts (Grand - Imposing - Brilliant), their favourite lessons (Potions - Potions - Potions) and some speculation on what lessons they might take when they had the choice at the end of third year (Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, Draco - Divination and Arithmancy, Blaise - Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures, lies from Harry, who was sure that the information would soon make its way to an unscrupulous headmaster). While they talked, Hagrid drunk. And drunk. And drunk some more. Before two hours had passed, the half-giant was well and truly hammered.

"Hagrid, you remember when we went to Gringotts?" Harry asked in the earnest tone he had practiced over the holidays. At the elder man's nod (and hand gesture), he continued. "Well, what was in that vault?" He backtracked as Hagrid's face stiffened. "I know you can't tell me, and I wouldn't want you to betray any trusts, but we wanted to see if any of our guesses were close - about who it belongs to, I mean, because Professor Dumbledore would have kept it here where it's safest, right?"

"Aye, he would. Grea' man, Dumb'dore." Hagrid smiled dreamily. "S' a good frien' o' his, gave him tha' stone."

"I thought it might have been something from the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge." Blaise guessed. They'd decided on their guesses beforehand, of course. Suitably high placed officials very firmly on the side of the _Light_, or at least, against the Dark.

"But I said it had to be somebody from the Wizengamot like Tiberius Ogden, or Elphias Doge, right Hagrid?" Draco's enthusiasm was underwritten with a dark sarcasm that, fortunately, Hagrid was too drunk to take any notice of. Harry did, however, and shot him a warning glare.

"I don't really know many wizarding people," Harry finished the trio with a sad tone. "Only people we learnt about in History of Magic. Would be cool if it was something of Merlin's though."

"Nah, yeh're all wrong!" Hagrid chuckled. "S'not your faul' though - can't 'spect kids like yeh to know who Nicolas Flamel is!"

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

On Saturday morning Madam Pince, the librarian, was surprised to see three young Slytherin first years, but happily directed them to the bushy haired Ravenclaw that visited her domain at least twice daily.

"Hi, Hermione!" Harry stage-whispered as he sat next to her. As usual, the girl jumped up, absorbed as she had been in her books. Despite the fact that it was nine-thirty on a Saturday, Hermione had already gathered four books. Harry supposed that that was exactly why she was a Ravenclaw. "Have good holidays?"

"Morning Harry, Blaise… Draco." She smiled warmly and nodded in greeting to all of them. "Mine was great, and yours?"

"Good fun." Harry leaned in closely to her, speaking in a low whisper only she could hear. "I heard about someone over Christmas, a famous wizard. One who's meant to be able to do some amazing magic, but I can't find reference to him _anywhere_." He paused, looking around at Blaise and Draco, as if afraid that they'd hear his words. "You're so much better at finding things out than I am, I don't suppose that you'd…?"

"Of course I will Harry!" Hermione's smile widened, if that was even physically possible. "Which wizard?"

"Nicolas Flamel."


	16. Chapter 16: Nefarious Means

- Chapter 16 -

Nefarious Means

Hermione being Hermione, she found a reference to Nicolas Flamel inside of a week. Draco had very nearly collapsed in laughter when he heard the name had been found in a tome reserved for Hermione's so called 'light reading'.

"You don't understand!" He spluttered to the Ravenclaw's glare. "I don't think I'd read a book like that for heavy duty research, and it's bedtime stories for you!" He raised a hand to his face, wiping away tears of laughter as he continued to speak. "Now we know for _sure _that you were _meant _to be a 'Claw!"

Hermione softened some as Draco played to the fears that all of the Slytherins had easily spied. Hermione was afraid that she didn't _belong_, she was frightened of this strange new world, worried that she wouldn't fit in.

"Go on then, brainiac, who is he?" Harry leaned in conspiratorially, spinning the book in front of her to face him.

"Nicolas Flamel is the only known creator of the Philosopher's Stone, which can turn any metal into gold, and can produce the elixir of life!" Hermione grinned at Harry madly. "I have to ask though, what did you need to know for?"

"Well," Harry hedged. "You can't tell anyone about this, but what it is, is that-"

"It's a Slytherin tradition to get the First Years to find out stuff like this, so we know more about the Wizarding World." Blaise interjected, mock exasperated. "Honestly, Harry, it's only Hermione, you know we can trust her!"

Hermione's chin jutted upwards a full inch at Blaise's pronouncement, smiling fondly at the dark haired boy.

"Of _course _I won't tell anyone," She assured the three Slytherins. "I can keep a secret as well as the next girl."

"Just so long as the next girl isn't Brown!" Draco drawled with a supercilious smirk. "I don't think she even stops for breath!"

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

"Okay men," Marcus Flint smiled warmly at Harry. "and boy, I want everyone on their best behaviour this match. Quirrell's refereeing, Professor Snape fixed it because he doesn't trust Hooch against her old House, so we have to make this a clean win."

Harry was glad that Professor Snape had thought to explain his reasoning for asking for Quirrell as referee before the match, he feared that had he not known he would have refused to play. Snape had figured that with the Defence Professor on the pitch and the eyes of the whole school on him, there would be nothing the turbaned terror could do. Blaise had come up with the term 'turbaned terror' and Harry felt it was quite appropriate.

"Any rules against bludgers at the ref?" Jacob Blishwick grinned up at their captain, leaving the rest of the team laughing and shaking their heads.

"Only if you get a clean shot, with an opposing chaser with quaffle no less than three feet behind him." Marcus shot back easily. "But seriously, Ravenclaw are notorious for playing smart matches, and we need to put them down as quickly as possible, so no heroics with the quaffle, understood, Aid, Charles?" The other two chasers nodded in agreement as Marcus turned to Harry. "Pressure's on you to make it two for two, Harry. If it comes down to a long game then they'll get a few up on us, and we need as big a lead as possible to win the cup. Their seeker, Hatton is a good player - she's not at your level, mind, but she's a real opponent, not like Lopes last match.

"Don't underestimate the bugger, he won't stop looking for an opportunity, and he's smart enough to get around your defences, see your weaknesses. As soon as you see the snitch, take it, save your fancy stuff for Hufflepuff. Got it?"

"See snitch, catch snitch, nothing fun." Harry repeated, nodding his head solemnly. Marcus shook his head with a fond smirk.

"I worry about what you consider fun, kid." He barked, before clapping his hands and sending the team out to roaring applause from not only Slytherin, but Hufflepuff too, whom Ravenclaw had beaten soundly in their November match. The only chance Hufflepuff had to win the Quidditch cup rested on Slytherin scraping a win against the Claws, with the Puffs decimating both Slytherin and Gryffindor. Suffice to say, their chances weren't high.

Hufflepuff ended the day happier than both Slytherin and Ravenclaw. While Slytherin had won the match, it hadn't been the decisive victory that Flint had been hoping for, in fact they'd won by a narrow margin of thirty points, with Slytherin's one hundred and fifty total gained solely through Harry's aggressive pursuit of the snitch. Ravenclaw's beaters had dogged Flint and Adrian Pucey, leaving Charles Warrington to deal with three chasers with no support of his own.

Flint was furious that the Ravens had managed to conceal their plays, and even more furious that he hadn't had a counter play to hand.

"I missed it!" he moaned that night, at the Slytherin party, halfway to drunk on Firewhiskey. "How did I miss it? I should have known... Should've had another plan!"

The other snakes steered clear of him, the elder years warning the youngest to stay clear.

"Won't get no sense of him, not when he's like that," a sixth year slurred at Harry. "He'll be back to normal in the morn... Oh, Merlin, what's the daft bint doing now?"

Harry turned to find Camélia slipping past those on the outer edge of the empty space around Marcus, a bottle of cold butterbeer held in her right hand. Her left hand touched Marcus' shoulder slightly, and he looked up, startled. Camélia leant down to whisper in his ear, her hand running down his arm, clasping his hand in hers as she gently sat on the arm of his heavyset chair. Marcus looked from her hand over his, up to Camélia's face, then back down again. With an almost incredulous smile, he turned his hand under hers, interlinking their fingers.

Harry looked away then, unwilling to intrude on something that, despite its very public setting, felt very private.

The sixth year huffed in amusement.

"Well!" he announced dramatically. "Didn't see _that_ one coming!" Camélia's friend Jess Chambers pursed her lips and shook her head disparagingly.

"They're betrothed." The seventh year girl elaborated at the shocked and confused expressions that surrounded her. "Since Yule. Their parents had been bargaining for a time, I think, but it's official now. Once Marcus has a career secured, they'll be married."

Harry knew the basics of betrothals from his lessons earlier on in the year, however seeing as Harry _was _only eleven, it seemed that his tutors had omitted more than a few details. Like how _young _you could be betrothed. Logically, Harry knew that even his parents had been married right out of school, but, was _he _going to have to marry once he'd left Hogwarts? The thought chilled Harry to the bone - _girls?_ _Gross!_

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

That night, once all of the elder snakes were safely in bed, Harry snuck out of the dungeons under his invisibility cloak. He had found that it was easiest to infiltrate the restricted section of the library under cover of darkness. Some covert practicing with Draco late at night had led Harry to the discovery that if he lit his wand underneath the cloak, he could see out, but the light couldn't be seen from outside.

Currently, Harry was reading a history book, written by one of Gellert Grindelwald's supporters, a Frenchman fluent in English. The wizard had included grotesque drawings of the horrific tortures in the book, but Harry had never scared easily, and he found the book to be genuinely interesting. The Pureblooded wizard, a Jaques Rénard who had written often expanded on the reasons that Purebloods were superior to Muggleborns. It quite amused the young Slytherin to poke holes in the author's logic using the little scientific knowledge he had picked up at primary school with the Muggles.

Harry had just stifled a gasp at a _particularly _vivid torture description (he couldn't skip them, they gave him ideas for how he'd pay the Dursley's back), when he heard footsteps. Carefully, he slid out of his chair, keeping his book underneath the cloak - if a suspicious (or tidy) person tried to tuck in his chair, and failed, they were sure to figure out there was an invisible person sitting in it. Scanning the darkened library, Harry wrapped his cloak tightly around his person and rolled himself under a raised bookshelf. On the off chance that the cloak wasn't quite covering him, or that the person had a method of seeing through his cloak, the darkness would help to hide him, as would the awkward position - most people weren't paranoid enough to check for invisible people in small spaces. Particularly not small spaces that were too big for the average first year. Harry might not be pleased that he was small, but he'd use every advantage he had.

Another advantage of his hiding place was that he could see the entrance into the enclosed area he'd been studying in, and therefore anyone who walked in.

As it was, when the figure belonging to the footsteps entered, Harry very nearly gave himself up. It was his Head of House, Professor Snape. He'd hinted more that once that he had a way to know if any of his students were out of the dorms. The only thing that prevented Harry from revealing himself immediately was the distinct sound of a _second _pair of footsteps.

"In here!" The Professor hissed in a low voice. The footsteps moved closer, and Harry had to stifle a gasp as he saw Quirrell approaching, his turban making for an easy identification, despite the low light. Professor Snape _had _to be up to something, talking to the man who had tried to kill Harry so late at night, and in a place so far off the beaten track.

"P-professor Snape!" Quirrell stuttered, somehow still managing his usual tone of perpetual surprise, despite having obviously arranged to meet the Potions Master. "I wa-wa-wa-was s-surprised that you wanted to-to-to m-meet me here.

"I thought that both of our purposes would be better suited to keep this meeting private." Professor Snape's voice was icy cold, though Harry thought he could detect a slight slur, almost as if his Professor had had a drink or two to steady his nerves. "After all, the residence of the Philosopher's Stone is still, supposedly a secret."

Quirrell's head snapped up at that, and from Harry's vantage point he could see a strange fire burning in the nervy-Professor's eyes. His left hand twitched subtly towards his wand. Harry jammed a fist into his mouth to keep himself silent.

"Have you found a way to get past Hagrid's beast? Or Pomona's traps?"

"P-p-p-p-p-professor Snape, I-"

"Quirinus, _I know_." Professor Snape interrupted darkly. "You do not want me for an enemy, Quirinus, and you must decide with whom your loyalties lie. Think this over, there are other, better ways for you to achieve your goals."

Professor Snape turned heel and left then, Quirrell following scant minutes afterwards. Harry rolled out from under the bookcase, slipping the book he'd been reading back onto the shelf, taking a slow walk back to the dormitory to mull over what he had heard.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

In the light of the next morning, Harry decided that the only thing he could do was to write Draco's father. Of course, that meant he'd have to tell Draco about his night time adventures first. The youngest Malfoy would most certainly throw a fit when Lucius' owl flew in, delivering a letter to his friend, rather than him.

"Draco, we need to talk." Harry said in a low voice during dinner. "Alone." The blonde narrowed his eyes for a fraction of a second before nodding and continuing his conversation with Tracey Davis.

Harry went to 'bed' almost immediately after Quidditch practice, claiming he was tired, a sentiment agreed with by the entirety of the team. Flint hadn't taken their near loss well, and, despite the calming influence of Camélia had still managed to book more time on the pitch and the use of a classroom for tactics sessions. Draco appeared twenty minutes later, intoning a locking spell at the dormitory door, and sitting cross legged at the foot of Harry's bed.

"You've been twitchy all day." Draco began without preamble. "And it's something to do with my Godfather, cause you won't look him in the eye."

"Huh, Godfather." Harry shook his head and gave a wry smile. "Would you believe I forgot?"

"Forgot why you won't look at him?" Draco was sceptical.

"No, forgot he was your Godfather. Listen, Draco I was out late last night, and I saw - well, you're not going to believe this, but-" Harry relayed the whole tale, half-waiting for an indignant squeal protesting Professor Snape's involvement, but Draco just nodded, wide eyed.

"We gotta talk to my Father about this." Draco closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "I really, really don't want Uncle Sev to be the bad guy here, Harry, but if he is, I'm sticking with you." His grey-blue eyes locked onto Harry's emerald orbs. "You hear that, Ree?"

Harry could only nod, too shaken and relieved that his best friend believed in him to fully notice that Draco had slipped into the nickname his Mother had given Harry. Before he could bring himself to speak, Draco had tumbled from the bed, digging down to the very bottom of his D.M. monogrammed trunk.

"Father gave me a mirror, at Yuletime," Draco called, still rooting around. "He said I can use it to contact him in emergencies, says the Floo took too long last time."

"Ray, this isn't really an emergency…" Harry trailed off uncertainly. "I mean, we could just owl him, couldn't we?"

"Mother calls one of her hairpins falling out an emergency, trust me, Ree, this ranks up there… Aha!" Draco pulled up out of the trunk, holding the rectangular mirror up to his face. "Lucius Malfoy." He said clearly, moving over to sit with Harry, wrapping a reassuring arm around his friend. "It's okay, Father will sort this out, he'll fix it."

As they both watched, the smooth glass fogged over as if someone had just breathed on it. A blurry blonde outline could be seen behind the mist, which suddenly cleared to reveal a slightly resigned looking Lucius Malfoy.

"So, why am I coming to Hogwarts this time?" He asked, smirking.

"Harry overheard a conversation between Uncle Sev and Quirrell, and from what he's told me, I'm worried, Father." Draco looked over at Harry for support.

"It was like he was threatening Quirrell, like Quirrell was doing something. I don't know, I mean I... Do you think it could have something to do with what happened back before Chri-Yule? With my broom, I mean."

"Tell me exactly what you heard, Harry." Lucius told him patiently. "We will get to the bottom of this." Once more, Harry told a Malfoy what he'd seen, Draco interjecting with things that Harry had told him earlier.

"You are quite right to inform me. I will speak with Severus immediately. I don't think that he is siding with Quirrell on this, nor that he is a danger, of himself, but knowing some of this information may help us to evade the vows he has taken."

"And how will we know what you say?" Draco pressed. "We'll need to know; unless you'd rather we got into trouble and danger... Imagine Mother's face if one of us came home missing a limb, or horribly disfigured, or-"

"I will mirror call you once I have finished speaking with him. You will wait for my call before doing anything remotely interesting. Stay in the dorm room – do some homework." With that, the mirror clouded over again, leaving Harry and Draco to blink owlishly at each other.

"Eugh, _homework_!" Draco moaned, falling back onto the bed dramatically.

HBP – HBP – HBP – HBP – HBP -

It only took Lucius about an hour to call them back, and the elder man smiled to himself when he caught sight of the feathers caught in his son's hair, and the ink staining Harry's chin. Obviously the boys had been up to mischief.

"What did you find out, Father?" Draco asked with no preamble.

"His vows were somewhat circumvented. Dumbledore is expecting that Harry will foil Quirrell, hence the protections will be things that you will be able to get past. Severus suggests that, apart from the pair of you and Blaise, you bring Nott and Greengrass – with her flute."

"And what happens if we don't stop Quirrell? What happens if he gets the stone?" Harry asked, brow furrowed. "I don't like the sound of this, an adult wizard against a bunch of first years? We'll be like lambs to the slaughter!"

"Which is why I will be surreptitiously coming with you. Harry, if I can, I'd like to borrow the invisibility cloak that you wrote to me about, and Draco, it will be your responsibility to mirror call me before you go anywhere, leaving me at least fifteen minutes to get to you."

"Of course, Father. The more time the better?" Draco asked as Harry nodded his agreement. Lucius agreed heartily.

"When will you want the cloak?" Harry asked, slightly confused. "If we might only have fifteen minutes warning, that's not a lot of time to give it you if you have to hide from everyone else to get to us."

"You're right, Harry. If you give it to Professor Snape as soon as you can, he will see that I get it, and I shall carry it with me. Now, it's quite late, and I'm sure that Narcissa will have my hide – I'm missing a party, I think, so I'll go now. Remember, if you need me – either of you -" His eyes met Harry's. "You get in touch with me however you can, and I will be there. There is nothing too small or trivial, just as there is nothing that I cannot or will not do to help you."


	17. Chapter 17: Devils Snare

- Chapter 17 -

Devil's Snare

"So, why do you want me to come with you? No offence, but we're not really the best of friends now, are we?" Theo Nott was suspicious. Harry really couldn't blame him, although he did wonder why Daphne hadn't caused as much of a fuss – surely all of the Slytherins knew better than to take things at face value?

"Theo, mate, if we knew, we'd tell you." Draco dropped his head and groaned at Blaise's straightforward approach. Harry merely shrugged at the blonde – after all, Draco's attempts at diplomacy and subterfuge hadn't worked in the previous twenty minutes. "Professor Snape's under oath – we think – for what's actually down the corridor, but he did manage to tell us that he thought that you could help us."

Theo preened – just a little.

"To be honest, Theo, I'm pretty bummed that I'm basically gonna be forced into going down there, and I'd really rather not die doing it. If you coming means I'm not going to die, then I'm sorry Theo but I'll knock you out and drag you." Harry growled.

Theo scoffed, but his eyes flicked back up at the Trio nervously.

"You don't even know the stunning spell," he shook his head, looking down at the floor, before twitching and looking towards Harry. "You don't, right?" Harry's lips slowly swung upwards into a feral grin.

"Oh Theo, dear Theo, there are plenty of heavy things in the dorm to brain people with. Your wand _isn't_ your only weapon..."

"Yeah, I mean imagine if you hit someone with Draco's shampoo – that thing could actually kill someone." Blaise teased, lightening the tension between Harry and Theo considerably, but causing Draco to bodily launch himself at the Italian boy.

"Oi, you leave my shampoo alone! Just because you don't know how to wash, you greasy git!" Draco retorted hotly, causing Blaise to just laugh harder.

"Greasy? What does that make you? Blind?"

While his two best friends rough housed on the floor of their dormitory, Harry turned back to Theo.

"So? What is it to be?" He asked, softly enough that Theo had to strain to hear him over the others' screams and shouts.

"I'll come." Theo sighed darkly. "But, hell, Harry, you're a bastard."

At this, Harry merely smiled.

- HBP – HBP- HBP – HBP – HBP -

It was near the end of the term, days since they had finished their final exams, that they woke Theo in the night. A hushed _"Get dressed, it's now." _the only words said once he'd stumbled into wakefulness.

It had been long enough that Theo was sure he could have pleaded ignorance of any task that would cause the four first-years to be out of bed in the middle of the night, but he knew better. Harry had scared him that day, the intensity held in those startlingly green eyes had haunted his dreams for some time.

He wore dark clothes, as did the others, and soft shoes. They crept up the stairs to the common room, Theo's eyes widening and mouth dropping open at the figure there that awaited them. His face showed guilt at being caught, along with a healthy measure of disappointment, but inside he was jumping with glee! They had been caught! He wouldn't have to traipse the castle at this insane hour – whatever the hour was – with Blaise, and Draco and the still mildly-terrifying Harry.

"Well fancy seeing you four here, and at this time of night as well!"

"Quit playing around Daphne, let's get going." Harry's short turn had the girl frowning for another moment, before she flounced around, following Harry's retreating back out of the common room.

Theo caught up to her as they passed through the gap in the stone serving as an entrance to their common room.

"So, how did they convince you to get involved with this debacle?" Theo whispered to the blonde. "Threats? Blackmail?" Daphne sniffed and lifted her chin.

"Harry _asked_." She hissed back, hurrying forwards to grasp the aforementioned boy's hand. Theo shook his head darkly, before being clapped on the shoulder by Blaise.

"Now, listen, Theo, if you're chickening out, Drakie brought his shampoo..." For once, the young Malfoy scion didn't berate his friend for the epithet, nor the insult, choosing instead to glare menacingly at Theo.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Theo shot back angrily.

They didn't talk for the rest of the journey - up a flight of stairs, down a corridor, more stairs – but Theo could feel the eyes of both Zabini and Malfoy on his back, watching and waiting for him to slip up and do something stupid.

Theo's breath caught in his throat when he realised that their group had approached the door to the forbidden third floor corridor. He rather fancied he heard a similar gasp from Greengrass.

"We can't go in here! We're not allowed! Did you not hear the Headmaster at the Welcoming feast? A very painful death!" He turned to Daphne eyes wide with shock and fear. "Surely you didn't agree to this – you're not as mad as they are!"

"I may not have been specifically told our destination," At this she shot a sharp glare at the three who had led them to the corridor; to their credit, each looked slightly cowed. "However I trust that they have their reasons for this, and I trust _them_." Harry smiled softly at her.

"You brought your flute, right?" He asked her softly. Daphne hummed an agreement, fishing the instrument from her sleeve. "Play it – something soft, a lullaby." With a quizzical frown, Daphne obeyed, letting a sweet melody fall from her lips. Once she'd gotten into a comfortable rhythm with her playing, Harry motioned for her to continue, and pushed open the door.

"What the bloody _hell _is that _thing?_" Theo hissed darkly as two heads of the Cerberus came into view. "You can't really expect us to go in there, can you?"

"Daphne first," Harry ordered. "And whatever you do, keep playing." As Daphne entered the corridor, followed by Theo (Blaise had pushed him in with a wicked smirk), the two first-years could see the three headed dog's eyes drifting closed, and its heads swaying in time to the music, lower, and lower, and lower until they touched the floor. Theo's eyes followed them down, noting a trapdoor set underneath where it had been chained.

"Please, please tell me that we're not going down there?" He begged the Trio who had brought them to the corridor, only to be met with three identical grins.

"Guests first," Blaise offered, pulling the trapdoor up with a heave. "And by that, I mean you Theo."

Theo grunted out a suitably catty response, before peering into the blackness of the trapdoor. He sat on the edge, dangling his feet in, trying to get a better look – any sort of look into what on earth was down there.

"Isn't there a ladder, or stairs, or- waaaa-ugh!" Theo felt a heavy hand pushing his back, and twisted round enough as he fell to see Blaise's white teeth smirking down at him. "Bloody bastard, you, Zabini!" He swore.

"Never mind _him_," Malfoy's shining blond hair could be seen above the trapdoor now. "What's down there?"

"You mean you don't know?" Nott roared out, struggling to pull himself upright. "You let Zabini push me down into anything? I could have died! What were you thinking? You're mad, all of you, stark raving lunatics!" He gasped for air as he felt a tendril of... something creep over his chest. "Oh Merlin, whatever it is that's down here, it's moving!" He screamed out, reaching up to brush off the constriction, only to find his hands had been trapped as well. "Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, it's got me!" He screeched. "I'm going to die, I'm going to die and it's all your fault! There's so many things I wanted to do, so many things I wanted to say... Tell my parents I love them, and that _you _killed me, Zabini!"

"_What _has got you Nott? You're not dead yet so give me something useful!" Malfoy snarled. Theo looked around frantically.

"I... It's a plant!" He called up. "Umm, it's green, it's got lots of tendrils and- OH GOD HELP IT'S TRYING TO EAT ME!"

"A green plant?" Draco mused. "Not like we've never seen one of _those _before."

"Maybe it's Venemous Tentacula?" Blaise asked, eyes widening in excitement. "Oooh, Theo, does it have spikes?"

"Erm, I don't know – wait, OH GOD! It just pricked me." Nott's voice grew quieter. "I'm dying, I'm actually dying." Up above, Draco rolled his eyes at the melodramatic hyperventilating.

"If it pricked you, you'd be dead already." Harry interjected. "Don't suppose it could be a Snargaluff Tree?"

"I think I'd notice if it was a TREE! It's all vines! And gropey things!" Theo shouted.

"Come on, Harry, be serious. It's Dumbledore that's set this up. It's probably just fanged geraniums. Nott, you seeing any flowers?" Draco rolled his eyes again. "You two are completely ridiculous."

"By that logic it could be Knotgrass then. Harmless, just won't let him go for a few days." Blaise returned. Harry sighed.

"I still think it's a Snargaluff Tree. I don't think Dumbledore would be so tame."

"No! Dumbledore likes TAME! Tame means I live! This is TAME!" Nott screamed.

"Do you think he realises that his thoughts don't matter?" Blaise mused. "I mean, if he's right, it changes nothing, and if he's wrong it changes nothing."

"If only he could give us a better description!" Draco bemoaned.

"If only he could see the _tree!_" Harry snarled back. They both paused, looking to each other with wide eyes.

"_See_!"

"Nott! Cast _Lumos!" _Harry leaned over the trapdoor again.

_ "Lumos!"_The frantic boy screamed out. To all of their surprise, the plant receeded, letting go of him and shrinking away to the darkest corner of the room.

"Devil's Snare?" Harry asked into the silence, all three boys topside ignoring Nott's hysterical screams of joy. "Well, I suppose it _is _on the first year curriculum."

"And it was on our final exam." Draco added.

"And in the revision lessons we did with Sprout." Blaise added. "Guys, we really should have figured this out sooner." Harry shrugged.

"No harm no foul."

- HBP – HBP- HBP – HBP – HBP -

With a seeker like Harry, and both Draco and Blaise being competent fliers, it didn't take long at all for them to catch the required flying key in the next room with the giant chessboard taking them the longest to cross. Once the board was clear, Harry pulled Blaise and Draco off to the side. Knowing they only had a limited amount of time, Harry got straight to the point.

"Daphne and Theo have both helped us past tasks that could have been designed for them, the question is will we need them further. What do you think?"

"I think we should have them stay here," Blaise replied after a moment's thought. "At least here we know they'll be safe, and we can collect them on our way back through."

"Don't be ridiculous, we should take them with us!" Draco hissed, rolling his eyes. "Who knows what's ahead of us? We might need them!"

"And what if they get hurt, eh?" Blaise shot back. "You want to be the one responsible for that?"

"Do _you _want to be the one getting hurt?" Draco cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at Blaise. "You just want all of the glory for this, don't you? You want to be recognised, and the fewer of us there are the more glory you get!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Harry sighed as he smacked his two best friends around the back of the head before they transitioned from angry words to angry hexes. "If you're worried about getting hurt, that's why-" Harry dropped his voice to a mere whisper. "_Lucius _is here with us. And if you're wanting glory you might as well go back, tonight stays quiet."

Draco sniffed imperiously.

"So, basically, Daph and Theo might as well stay put here?" Blaise smirked at Harry's answering nod, pleased to have gotten his way.

"_But,_ if Draco doesn't agree then we'll have to take them. I won't cut anyone out of decisions." Harry added, causing Draco to smirk this time. The blonde frowned, however, after a moments thought.

"Bugger it, you're right. They _should _stay." He conceded with a shake of his head. "No point risking anyone else seeing what's ahead."

All three nodded at that sentiment, turning to face their two housemates.

"Listen, guys, we think it's gonna be better if you two stay here." Blaise said bluntly. "We're not too sure what's ahead, and it's not fair if either of you get in danger or trouble when this whole thing was _our _plan."

Daphne narrowed her eyes, and stepped forwards as if to contest the point but Theo's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Be careful," Theo cautioned. "That chessboard, it wasn't right. It was too easy. Somebody's playing games with you."

Harry's jaw stiffened and he jutted his chin out defiantly, but the pose lasted only a moment. He dropped his head and looked up at Theo, dark anger written in the emerald of his eyes.

"I know." He said, and Theo stepped back, slipping his hand down to Daphne's as they watched the three, their – dare he say it? - _friends, _cross the remainder of the board and pass into the next room. Theo didn't comment on the fourth set of footsteps he heard following them, merely squeezing Daphne's hand tighter.


	18. Chapter 18: The Dark Lord

- Chapter 18 -

The Dark Lord

Lucius Malfoy threw off the invisibility cloak as soon as the door to the next room had closed. Grinning roguishly at the three boys, he knelt to hug his son, one hand stroking his hair.

"I'm proud of you three," he said seriously. "You did well."

"Thank you, Father." Draco responded, equally as seriously. Harry and Blaise merely nodded, knowing just how much his father's approval meant to their friend.

"Think they noticed the..." Harry began, looking to Blaise.

"Dead troll? Yes, yes I did Harry." Lucius responded, arms still wrapped around a now squirming Draco.

"Considering the troll's already been dealt with, shouldn't we be getting on?" Harry rolled his eyes at Blaise's lack of patience, but couldn't help to agree with the sentiment. Particularly as his eyes flicked over the series of slashes covering the collapsed troll, and the pool of slowly drying blood surrounding it.

"True enough, Blaise." Lucius nodded briskly, standing. He shook the cloak again, but moved across to Harry and ran a hand over his head as well. "Very proud." He whispered softly as he swung the cloak up and over his body.

Harry took the lead, not wanting his friends to see the soft smile that had crept up onto his face. They stepped carefully over the troll's legs, Draco making a mew of disgust at the blood now coating his shoes.

"_Scourgify._" Came a whisper from Lucius, then a pause, before: "_Scourgify. Scourgify. Scourgify_. No sense in any of us being covered in that _thing_."

Harry struggled to hide his smirk, and saw Blaise next to him doing the same. Draco didn't tolerate messes, or stains of any sort. Apparently, it was inherited – who'd have known?

Harry pulled the next door open slowly, trying hard to ignore the elm wand hovering in thin air over his shoulder. If pushed, however, he might have had to admit that knowing Lucius was there, and having visible proof did wonders for the palpitations thudding across his chest.

Harry sighed in relief at the innocuous looking table with seven differently shaped bottles standing in a line.

"Uncle Sev's, I suppose." Draco smirked, pushing Harry and Blaise in front of him across the threshold, then rushing past them at the purple fire that sprung up behind him.

"Do you honestly think that your godfather would see you harmed by the flames?" Drawled the space behind Blaise. The folds of the cloak parted to reveal an amused Lucius Malfoy. "Calm, my dragon, Severus has kindly given me the potion that will allow us to cross the flames ahead of us."

"So you needed to bring a potion to pass?" Harry nodded at the bottles on the table. "That would make all of those poison, right?" Lucius sighed heavily.

"No. Dumbledore, in his infinite wisdom felt that it would be better to have the real potion present. There is a – _logic_ _puzzle _to solve." Lucius sneered.

Blaise frowned and moved across to the table, peering down at the bottles.

"One of our classmates pointed out that some of the greatest wizards are lacking in logic." Harry offered, half-watching Blaise puzzling over the parchment on the table. "I can attest to having seen several at the school who are lacking in just that."

"Only those who are foolish enough to rely on magic alone to solve their problems, Harry." Lucius corrected gently. "And you will not be one of those wizards. Remember that your mind is a greater weapon than your wand."

"Gotcha!" Blaise grinned victoriously. "I'm drinking this one!" He crowed in victory, holding up a tiny, dark blue bottle as he skipped back to the group. Draco peered at the bottle with a frown.

"That's only half full." He nodded at the bottle. "There's definitely someone ahead of us."

"The dead troll didn't give you a hint?" Blaise raised an eyebrow, causing Draco to pale slightly.

"It'll be fine, Ray." Harry's eyes met Draco's in a feral smirk. "We'll _make_ it fine."

Lucius nodded firmly in agreement, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder. They stood still, all of them, for a moment, nothing more. Harry locked eyes with Blaise seeing fear underneath his playfulness, then Draco and determination under his fear. Harry's eyes met Lucius' last, meeting the calm, sure, shining silver orbs.

"Let's do this." Harry broke the silence. "I'll go first."

Lucius passed over a larger replica of the bottle Blaise held in silence. Harry raised it to his lips and took a long pull, squeezing his eyes shut as the effects washed over him.

"What is it?" Draco asked, more than a little of his trepidation spilling over into his voice.

"It's cold. Like ice." Harry replied shortly, pushing the bottle into Draco's hand as Blaise downed his potion. With a grimace, Harry moved towards the black flames in the doorway opposite to them.

"Wands out, everybody." Lucius warned as he stowed the potion and covered himself with the cloak once more. Harry obediently slid his wand from its holster, holding it up ready in front of him as he stepped through the black flames that protected the philosopher's stone.

Harry snorted at the sight of the turbaned-terror standing alone in front of the Mirror of Erised.

"Evening, Professor Quirrell!" He called cheerfully across the room. "Boy am I glad to see you here!"

"I very much doubt that you will be glad to have seen me once this evening is over, Potter" Quirrell turned and smirked up at Harry, then frowned to see Draco and Blaise step through the fire to flank Harry. "Your friends will, of course, be the first to die."

"Lack of a stutter makes us even, Harry." Blaise sighed, leaning his left elbow on Harry's shoulder in a show of nonchalance. "Damn, I was sure it was Sinistra. There's just something about the name – Sinistra, Sinister, right?"

"Way too obvious." Harry rolled his eyes. "This is where all of the betting on underdogs comes into its own!"

"I still say Dumbledore's behind this." Draco's voice was a little too reedy, but Harry grinned at his best friend anyway, glad that the blond had overcome at least a little of his fear. "I'm not giving any money to anyone unless he confesses it was just him!"

"Shut up!" Quirrell roared, pasty face colouring with anger. "Shut up you little brats!"

"No need to get upset," Harry replied with a roll of his eyes. "Just a bet amongst friends."

"You do have them, don't you?" Blaise cut in with a feral grin. "Friends, I mean?"

Quirrell growled menacingly, taking a pace towards Blaise before Harry's arm swung out to rest against his dark haired friend, a pointed glare stopping the dark haired boy's cruel humour.

"I have to admit, I'm surprised that you fell for this." Harry gestured out with one arm at the grandiose room. "Well, considering your incompetence in the classroom, perhaps not."

"You expect me to believe that this is your doing, Potter?" Quirrell spat out disdainfully. "What arrogance, from a-"

"Oh don't be so ridiculous." Harry snorted, feeling a soft brush of fingers sliding against his neck, from right to left. _Lucius_, he thought smugly. The blond would, hopefully, be outflanking their opponent. "This is not _my _trap, there is no blood between you and I."

"Then, little Sslytherin, whosse trap is thiss?" Harry's eyes narrowed at the slight hissing tone that had invaded Quirrell's speech, and the change in terms of address.

"Dumble_dork_, who else?" Draco grinned from Harry's left, his tone more confident now – perhaps Lucius had given him a signal too?

"What's underneath your turban?" Harry tilted his head to one side in thought.

"Foolisssh child!" Quirrell's hiss had intensified, and his voice had risen in pitch slightly. "There isss nothing sssecreted there!"

"There are no religions in the Wizarding World who just wear turbans, you are far too sure of yourself to adhere to a Muggle tradition and it is a very uncommon fashion choice. So, I repeat, what is underneath your turban?" Harry took a step forwards, towards Quirrell, and smiled widely. "Or, perhaps I should rephrase, _who _is underneath your turban?"

"There isssss nothing! Ssssstop thisssss idiotic-"

"Your speech style has changed dramatically, I must say, Professor." Blaise cut in. "All that hissing sibilance, and I thought the stutter was a change!"

"You've paled as well, sir." Draco joined in. "And it looks as if you're sweating. Are you feeling unwell? Perhaps we should call the matron?"

"I think you're right, Ray," Harry nodded sagely. "See the twitching wrist, there? And just look at his cheeks, he's clearly biting the inside of them."

"Ssssstop it! Ssssstop it, ssssstop it, ssssssto-"

"Take it off." The voice appeared to come from Quirrell, but his lips were gaping, his expression one of shock. "Remove it, Quirinusss, it isss time."

"My Lord," Quirrell's lips moved this time, his hands quickly and surely unwinding the cloth binding his head. He held the material still for a moment, his eyes meeting Harry's. "My _Master_." He breathed out, dropping the remnants of the turban. And then he turned around.

The face on the back of his head was chalk white, its eyes scarlet red and slit. Harry could do little other than blink.

"Do you recognissse me, boy?" The face hissed out. "Do you know who I am, who I wasss?" Harry shook his head slowly.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," He replied cautiously.

"Foolisssh child – I am Lord Voldemort! - and I will dessstroy you!" The face lit up in a manic grin as the body took a step backwards – towards Harry.

"And what if I don't want to be destroyed?" Harry asked, taking a step towards Voldemort, gesturing for his friends to stay where they were. "What if I think we could... come to a mutually beneficial arrangement? I have heard tales of you, I know what you have to offer, but surely it couldn't harm you to listen to what _I _have to offer, could it?"

"A compromise, a truce could be, at the least, discussed." Voldemort mused aloud, before snapping his eyes to Harry once more. "But first, you will help me to retrieve... an artifact from this mirror." He – or was it Quirrell – pointed to the Mirror of Erised. Harry felt slightly queasy at the sight of the quite clearly backwards arm pointing. Quirrell was in no way in control of his body anymore. A sharp breath of air cleared Harry's mind to the task at hand. He walked forwards slowly, grateful to see Quirrellmort retreat a few paces from the mirror.

"I suppose it's the Philosopher's Stone you want?" Harry asked nonchalantly as he paused, body turned away from the mirror to watch a hiss of surprise escape Voldemort. He smirked, turning towards the mirror again. "I'll take that as a yes."

"What do you sssee, boy?" Voldemort breathed out, eyes watching Harry close enough to see his entire body tense at the form of address.

"I would suggest that if you want the stone, you'd do well to use my name." Harry replied tersely. Voldemort's red eyes narrowed at Harry's back. "This is different to the last time I looked into the mirror. It's just my reflection... wait a- really?" Harry frowned as he pushed his left hand into his pocket, pulling out a blood-red polished stone. "That was anticlimactic." Taking three quick paces forwards to Voldemort, Harry threw the stone backwards to his friends, sure that the Quidditch drills they helped him to run had improved their reactions.

"Treachery!" Voldemort roared, a wand suddenly appearing in his left hand. Harry raised both of his hands in front of him, palms out in the universal sign of peace.

"No treachery, I swear it. But first, I need something from you..."

Draco and Blaise looked at each other askance as the two figures in the centre of the room dropped into whispers, the stone cradled in both of Draco's hands a cold consolation for the danger their best friend was still in. Hearts beating in their throats they watched Voldemort's wand rise once more.

- HBP – HBP- HBP – HBP – HBP -

**A/N: **Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me... Pretty much everything has been updated today, so check out the new installments of everything else too!


	19. Chapter 19: The Light Lord

- Chapter 19 -

The Other Lord

Harry came to wakefulness abruptly, his eyes springing wide as he attempted to glean where, exactly, he was. Of course, he had somewhat expected this situation, but it all seemed so sudden. The sudden light near blinded him and left him blinking furiously as he attempted to sit up. Tentative hands searched out for his wand, and his glasses, returning wanting on both counts. Giving it up as a lost cause, he peered about the room, hoping to find something to help him.

Carefully, he slid his feet out from under the covers, and tentatively lowered them to the floor. Almost instantly he drew back, hissing at the cold stone. A harsh scraping noise from the dark right had Harry hastily drawing himself back under the bed covers, evening out his breathing once more. Footsteps, one pair, slowly approached him, echoing across the room.

"Ah, Harry Potter..." Came the gravelly voice. Harry slowly stirred, opening his eyes as if the voice had woken him. "I am glad to find that you are awake. You have been through an ordeal, my boy, and for that, I hope you can forgive me."

Harry's eyes slid open, resting on the figure who stood over his bed, forcing an earnest gleam into his eyes, he pushed himself into an upright position.

"Professor Dumbledore!"

"Harry, my dear boy," Dumbledore didn't appear to notice Harry's flinch at his final word. "I am proud of you, child, you have faced a great evil, however you should not have faced it alone."

"I wasn't alone – sir," Harry twisted left, ostensibly looking at the other beds, keeping himself clear of the Headmaster's piercing blue gaze. "Where's everyone else? Are they okay? Draco, Blaise, how are they? Daphne? Theo?"

"Your friends are all in good health, my boy." Harry's shoulders stiffened. "Young Mr Nott and Miss Greengrass were uninjured, of course, and Messers Malfoy and Zabini were released from Madam Pomfrey's tender care some hours ago."

Harry sighed in relief at this. He really hadn't wanted his friends to get hurt, but all of them, Nott not included, had known there was a hefty element of danger to what they had intended, and with what they had discovered about Quirr-. Harry shut down that line of thought instantly, dropping his head to a relaxed position.

"Sir, what, what happened after I- you know, _after_?" Harry asked, looking up to the region of Dumbledore's beard. "Professor Quirrell was there, I don't...?"

"Ah, young Harry, I am afraid that Professor Quirrell escaped before I arrived, however you protected the stone from him. We must be thankful for these small mercies."

"So will the Flamel's take the stone back then?" Harry asked curiously, careful not to sound _too _interested in its whereabouts.

"I see that you truly have done your research well, my boy." Dumbledore smiled genially.

"With Draco and Hermione as two of my best friends? They've got me trained well." Harry grinned, imagining how mad Hermione would be when she saw him.

"A training that will come in useful for your later years, child." Dumbledore chided gently. "Nicolas and Perennelle have put the time we at Hogwarts have kept their prized treasure to good use. They have created a facility near to their home to keep it safe. Rest assured that it will be safe there. You are to be commended, dear boy, for your part in keeping it out of the hands of darkness."

"Thank you, sir."

"And now, Harry, you must share with me. What truly happened between the Professor and yourself?"

"Well, I guess you've heard what happened up until Quirrell knocked Blaise and Draco out?" Harry received a curt nod. "Well, he- Quirrell, started talking to himself. He just kept saying that I was the key to getting the stone, he made me stand in front of the mirror, but I don't really know why. And then he started to talk about me, he-. Sir, he said some things about my parents?"

"Whatever he said, young Harry, you must almost certainly disregard. Lily and James were two of the best young people I have had the pleasure to come into contact with, and you are cut from the same cloth."

"He said that my Mum hated my Dad, sir. Up until their seventh year, and then they were suddenly together. He said that he thought he – my Dad – had used a love potion on her, but, he wouldn't, would he sir?" Harry bit his lip anxiously.

"Do not worry, dear child. The love between your parents was deep and strong. I believe that Quirrell was merely trying to unsettle you."

"I... I don't really remember anything after that, I guess." Harry pursed his mouth. "I should have done more to stop him, sir."

"Harry, my boy, I am sure that you did all that you could. Professor Quirrell is a fully trained wizard. I believe we should both be grateful for your survival."

"I... I guess so, sir." Harry twisted his fingers in the coverlet. "Sir, do you... Can I see my friends, sir? I know you said, but-"

"But you wish to see for yourself that they are in good health." Dumbledore finished with a wry smile. Harry nodded, smiling softly. "I shall have Professor Snape send Messers Malfoy and Zabini to visit you."

"Could I... Could I see Hermione too, sir? It's just, I know she'll be worried, and I know she doesn't have many friends, and I... and I..." Harry bit his lip again.

"I shall also speak to Professor Flitwick, child. I must confess, when you and your friends became close to Miss Granger, I was most impressed that you had not let the prejudices of many of those in your house cloud your judgement. There are many who would have let her blood status determine her worth, but you looked past that, my boy."

"Hermione's nice, and she's smart." Harry defended his friend with the kind of fierce determination often found in younger children. "And I don't let anyone tell me what to do, or who to like. She's my friend 'cause she's my friend."

Dumbledore smiled widely at his last words, gathering his robes about him as he stood to leave.

"I am glad that you feel that way, my boy." He smiled as he left the hospital wing, glad to see that young Harry's sorting had clearly not affected the young man. With luck and time, he would be able to sway some of the Dark Lord's future followers to the light. Yes, this could work well.

- HBP – HBP- HBP – HBP – HBP -

It didn't take long for Harry's friends to arrive in the hospital wing. Along with Draco and Blaise was Daphne, who wrapped Harry in a tight hug. He held her there, just as tightly, pretending not to feel her shuddering breaths and the warm tears that slid down his neck. As she pulled away, Draco smoothly slipped her one of the startling number of handkerchiefs he owned.

"Harry James, don't you dare ever scare me like that again! Do you know what it was like to see Dumbledore floating your unconscious body past me? I thought you were _dead_, Harry!" Harry looked across at Draco and Blaise, who were both trying not to snigger.

"Daphne, listen, it's not what it looks like. Well, some of it is, but not..." Harry stopped at a pointed coughing from Blaise. "Listen, when I'm allowed out of here, we'll talk, properly."

"It had better be a damn good explanation!" Daphne announced, seating herself primly next to Harry on the bed, her warm smile belying her frosty tone.

"It will, Daph, I promise. I just wanted to thank you for coming with me, you know? You didn't have to do that, and-" Daphne's raised index finger stopped him.

"I did what I needed to do to help _my friend_." She said softly. "There are no debts between friends."

"We do what we have to do, Harry." Draco nodded solemnly. "We're not going to disappear on you."

"Have to agree mate." Blaise agreed with a large grin. "Although, when Daphne socks you one later, mind if we watch? I know a house elf that can set us up with popcorn."

"Don't listen to that prat, Harry." Draco punched Blaise lightly in the arm. "Seriously, we're glad that you're alright."

"Be no fun without you." Blaise admitted.

All four Slytherins sat quietly for a moment, then, all at once, jumping as the doors to the hospital wing swung open unexpectedly.

"Oh- Harry- I'm- so- glad- you're- okay- there's- been- so- many- rumours- and- I- was- so- worried- about- you- I- can't- believe- you- guys- did- something- so- dangerous- don't- you- know- that- you- could- have- been- killed- or- worse- expelled- and- and- and- _oh- Harry-_!" Hermione rushed over to Harry, hands fluttering over his sheets nervously.

"Merlin, Hermione, do you _ever _breathe?" Blaise laughed out at his own joke, only to be confronted by Hermione instantly bursting into tears. "Shit, Hermione, it's okay, it's okay..." He looked sideways at Draco, hoping for support, but the blond merely pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and raised an eyebrow. Draco still recalled the last time he'd tried to comfort the Ravenclaw; his ribs even occasionally got a phantom ache at inopportune moments.

Shuffling over to the bed, Blaise awkwardly presented the purloined handkerchief. Draco grinned as the bushy haired mass clutched the scrap of cloth, and then launched itself at Blaise.

"Ohhh," Blaise groaned. "Hermione- ribs!"

Obediently, Hermione's grip loosened, but she still stayed buried in Blaise's chest, sniffling incessantly.

"Hermione, what's with all the tears, sweetheart?" Daphne asked gently, raising a hand to gently rub the girl's back. Harry noted with some amusement her careful avoidance of the tangled mess of hair.

"I just- I just- I- You left me!" Hermione wailed out. "You all left me, and I was so worried, but I couldn't do anything, and I didn't know all night – you could have _died_! I don't-" Hermione broke off, still sobbing. "I don't know what I'd do without you," She whispered. "You guys are my only friends!"

All four Slytherins froze at her final words, wide eyes turning to look at each other, carrying a series of subtle messages in raised eyebrows and twisted lips. '_Professor Snape' _Draco eventually mouthed where Hermione couldn't see him.

"Hermione, you know that we'd definitely have dragged you out of bed if you were in Slytherin, right?" Harry told her softly. "But none of us can get into Ravenclaw tower, particularly not after curfew."

Hermione let out a heavy breath through her nose as she extricated herself from Blaise, who did everything he could to facilitate regaining the ability to breathe properly. Using the handkerchief she patted her face dry.

"I know that, Harry, but just – next time you do something unbearably stupid and dangerous, do it in the daytime, okay?"

"Sure Hermione," Harry laughed. "But how about I try not to do something stupid instead?"

"That might work." Hermione smiled.

- HBP – HBP- HBP – HBP – HBP -

It took two days for Harry to be released from the hospital wing, having decided that Madam Pomfrey was unusually cruel for keeping him so late that he'd missed the final Quidditch game of the season. Hermione had sat with him, not caring that she was missing her team playing.

"It's not like I'm missing anything really interesting." She'd told Harry with a wry grin. "It's not as if Ravenclaw is going to win, Lexi Hatton is the best seeker, but our chasers won't match Gryffindor. We'll come third this season, I don't need to watch that."

"Wish I could've watched anyway." Harry grumbled, but Hermione soon had him engrossed in a game of chess. Neither of the pair were particularly good players, which led to long games that had better players shouting at them for missed opportunities. After three games (Hermione won two), they decided to move on. Hermione had, of course, brought study materials with her, and so, after a putting up a brief fight, Harry acquiesced to reading ahead to next year's material, since they had completed their final exams.

When Draco and Blaise arrived to share the results of the game (Ravenclaw had, in fact, won by a mere ten points when Lexi Hatton made a magnificent grab for the snitch) Hermione was happy to provide more reading material for them, at which Blaise groaned, and Draco eagerly delved into the more advance Potions journal. Harry eyed Hermione's well-worn school bag warily. With the amount of books the girl regularly carried around, she could do with an expandable bag – perhaps a thought for her birthday gift.

When Madam Pomfrey had bustled in some time later, to inform Harry's guests that visiting hours were over, she stopped still at the sight of all four quietly reading. Occasionally, one of the group would share a particularly interesting fact, or ask the others for clarification. Pomfrey smiled to herself. She did much prefer this group to the usual Gryffindors who cluttered up her ward. Nodding to herself, she left them to themselves while she started on the discharge paperwork for Harry.

"No Quidditch for another two days, no running, nothing strenuous, do you hear me Mr Potter?" She poked her wand out with each instruction for emphasis, as Harry, along with Draco and Blaise nodded along. "I want you resting. Now, I hope you understand that I don't let a lot of patients go this early, but you seem to be quiet enough that I feel you won't do yourself any more damage. If you disobey my instructions, however, I will know, and you _will _regret it."

"Don't worry Madam Pomfrey, we'll make sure he stays put." Blaise gave the matron his most winning smile, teeth gleaming. Pomfrey narrowed her eyes, looking him up and down.

"Well then, Zabini, _you_ are responsible for him!" With that, Pomfrey nodded sharply, and left a shell-shocked Blaise with his two snickering friends.

"Harry, you need to do exactly as she says because I think that woman might kill me!" Blaise shuddered as he gave Harry a hand up.

"Maybe you should fall over or something, under Blaise's watch – it'd be fun to see her eat him alive, don't you think, Ree?" Draco grinned.

"Oh stop messing with him! Like I'm planning on getting stuck in there again!" Harry groaned, causing Blaise to reward him with a cheesy smile and a hearty clap on the back.

The three friends laughed their way down to the Slytherin common room, with Harry prepared to spend the rest of the afternoon appeasing the worried nature of several of their friends - Camélia in particular could be quite insistent on checking over the younger students.

True to form, Camélia bustled over to Harry as soon as they entered the room, pulling him across to a large armchair next to the fire.

"Now don't you dare move away from here, you let everyone else come to you, do you hear?" She ordered sternly. "I heard you were cursed quite severely, and that can easily give you the chills!"

"Madam Pomfrey never said that." Blaise frowned distrustfully.

"Pah! Pomfrey!" Camélia snorted derisively. "Old bat never reads the new research, her healing is stuck in the sixties! You'll stay near the fire, or you'll be resting when you're in the dungeons, I won't have you cold!"

"Cam, calm down!" A large hand clapped Harry on the shoulder. "You'll be fine, won't you Harry? Fit enough for Quidditch next year, I assume?" Harry grinned ruefully up at Marcus – the man truly was obsessed with the game.

"Of course I will Marcus, you won't be rid of me that easily!"

"Good, we'll have a full team next year. I dread to think what's going to happen after I leave next year though. We'll be losing me, Charles, and Jacob. And then Perry Derrick's gonna be the most senior, but – merlin love him – he's not really gonna be up for the job of captain so you'll have Adrian or Miles, but they'll be gone in two and so then I guess it'll be you, and you'll have had to replace the whole team more-or-less, boy I don't envy you that, but then again, I suppose there is merit to-" Marcus was thankfully cut off by a silencing charm, although the man's mouth continued through what looked like another sentence before he noticed the lack of sound.

"Marcus, please – you have to stop." Head boy Terrence Higgs slipped his wand back into it's holster, still smiling at his charm work. "You'll drive the poor firsties mad if you carry on this way! Now bugger off, I want a word with them." Marcus rolled his eyes, but allowed Camélia to pull him away as Draco and Blaise settled themselves on the nearest sofa, the former raising an eyebrow at Terrence, clearly telling the older boy that he would not be moved.

"You three have, I think, been the cause of more prefects pulling out hair than any other students, you know? Merlin knows you've got into trouble, but then you also saved that Ravenclaw's life, not to mention the events of this week." Terrence paused to wet his lips. "But, hell, I like you, all three of you. And, I suppose that I'm trying to tell you that if you need something – out of Hogwarts, after this year – you've a friend."

Draco recovered first, understanding more readily than his friends exactly what Terrence was offering – more than friendship, _support_. Support, in its various forms, was something that Lucius Malfoy had always been careful to cultivate.

"Thank you, Terrence." Draco replied, rather formally. "Truly – we appreciate this more than you could imagine." The elder boy grinned ruefully.

"I'm not sure how much help I can be. I've been recruited by Gringotts, so there's every chance I'll be on the other side of the world in three months. But," He paused, and nodded his head slowly. "I like you kids, I really do. I think you're gonna do something, something big, and just remember that I wanted in."

- HBP – HBP- HBP – HBP – HBP -

The rest of the term passed by quickly, with little else of note happening in the few scant days Harry had left at Hogwarts. Slytherin had, of course, won the House cup, having succeeded in lifting the Quidditch cup once more. Their already considerable lead was buoyed to almost legendary proportions when Dumbledore threw house points like confetti at those Slytherin first years that had accompanied Harry to face Voldemort.

Hermione was fobbed off with excuses of House meetings and the like, as the three boys determined that a conversation with their Head of House and Draco's father were necessary before the young Muggleborn could be told of any of the events. Despite being unable to gain much time alone for a discussion, both Harry and Blaise were of the same mind, that Hermione could be trusted with the truth and would become a formidable ally in the future. Draco was somewhat unsure, although Harry did wonder if his reticence was in any way linked to Hermione's propensity to hug.

The exams results, to nobody's surprise proclaimed Hermione as the overall top of the year, with the highest results in Transfiguration, History of Magic and Astronomy. Draco took first place in Potions, while Blaise took home no firsts, but an even placement within the top five for every subject. In somewhat of a surprise, the quietest Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom had taken the top spot in Herbology. Harry himself was quite pleased with his firsts in Defence Against the Dark Arts (Although who exactly had marked the papers was a mystery) and Charms, leaving him second to Hermione overall. The Ravenclaws had been quite put out that only one of their house made the top five for the year (which was rounded out by Draco, Blaise and Hufflepuff Justin Finch Fletchley whose parents had threatened to enrol him in a private Muggle school if he didn't score well). Normally, the top five was heavily weighted in favour of Ravenclaw, however it appeared that the library study group with Hermione had boosted Slytherin's prospects.

And so it was that after a flurry of last-minute packing and the exchanging of Floo-addresses with some of their elder friends, that Harry and Draco found themselves once more in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express, however this time they were not alone. Blaise bounced happily around the compartment, Daphne Greengrass sat snug against the window with a magazine, and Hermione had tucked herself inconspicuously next to the door with a hefty book. Theodore Nott sat next to Draco, a chess board perched precariously across their knees.

Harry smiled as he looked around at his friends. A year before this, he'd have been almost unable to imagine having so many people care for him, and now he knew full well that that number was still even now increasing as their other friends came by to wish him well for the summer, and pass on those last snippets of gossip (Peregrine Derrick had, in fact, been caught cheating on his latest girlfriend in a hidden carriage at the end of the train). There were even people who cared for him not on the train; Professor Snape, and Hagrid who always had a kind word for him, along with Draco's parents. As the train pulled into Kings Cross Station, Harry decided that he could certainly deem his first year at Hogwarts a success.

It took two boys to a chest, but soon all of their trunks were taken down from the luggage racks and the friends made their way out onto the crowded platform to meet those parents of Wizarding origin.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy stood off to the side with Blaise's mother, and a man and a woman Harry didn't recognise. As Draco gestured to the group to follow and the first years squeezed through the crowd, Daphne's rapidly paling complexion revealed exactly who they were.

"It'll be okay." Blaise whispered in her ear. "You write us, and we'll get something done." At this, Daphne managed a small smile, which widened as they got close enough to hear the parents talking to each other.

"Well of course since our children are such good friends we simply _must_ have Daphne over to visit with us during the summer." Lucius smiled icily at Daphne's parents. A smaller version of Daphne poked her head out from behind her mother to beam at her elder sister approaching.

"Oh, is this your other daughter?" Narcissa exclaimed loudly. "It would be cruel to split them up, so of course both of your girls are invited." Narcissa bent down to the level of the little girl. "Just remember that you and your sister are _always _welcome at our house, why you can just Floo over if you want to at any hour!"

Harry smirked inwardly at the master play the Malfoys were delivering. He had seen and heard first hand in Professor Snape's meetings just what the Greengrasses usually did to Daphne, and starving her or her sister when pillars of society such as the Malfoys were expecting them would be nothing short of idiotic.

"Ah, there you are children!" Mrs Zabini smiled tightly. "Blaise, I am afraid that you shall have to say your goodbyes quickly, we have business to attend to in Italy." All too soon, Blaise had apparated away with his mother, leaving Narcissa to arrange a series of visits for the Greengrass girls that spanned the entire summer.

"I should go and find my parents." Hermione told Harry quietly, clearly feeling ill at ease having not previously met the Malfoys. "They'll be wondering where I am, seeing as they can't get through the barrier." She made to move away, but was caught by Lucius's keen eye.

"You must be the Miss Granger that Draco has told me about, surely you aren't leaving so soon?" His warm smile had Hermione turn to Draco in glee.

"You wrote your parents about me?" She asked, slowly. Draco nodded as if she were simple.

"Of course I did, you're my friend." He replied, nonplussed, only to be completely bowled over when the girl hugged him tightly.

"I've never really had friends before, not really." She admitted. "I didn't know if you guys really liked me at all, or if you just thought I was clever." Luckily for Draco, Lucius intervened, kneeling down and placing a hand on the young girl's shoulder.

"Miss Granger, I think Draco and Harry at least recognise that the smartest people make the best friends." Draco mouthed a thank you as Hermione let go of his waist while his father continued to speak. "In fact, you're welcome to visit us during the summer break as well."

"I- Thank you, Mr Malfoy, I'll ask my parents." Hermione smiled. "I should really be going to find them now though..."

Lucius stood and smiled, the feeling of his wife's arm wrapping around his back told him her conversation with the Greengrasses had concluded, and a look in that direction showed the family hurriedly apparating away.

"Walk with us, Miss Granger." Narcissa smiled benevolently. "We'd like to see Harry safely with his aunt and uncle too, so making sure you get to your parents as well is no trouble." She stepped away from her husband to lead the young girl out to the Muggle part of Kings Cross, trusting that all three of her boys would follow on behind her. "Personally, I do hope that you'll be able to come for at least part of the summer. I'd quite like some more girls in my home!"

The Grangers were stood together, quite near the entrance to the platform and both of them smiled widely as Hermione hit them both with large hugs.

"Mr and Mrs Granger, my name is Narcissa Malfoy, my son Draco is friends with your daughter." Both dentists greeted the rather stately looking woman warmly, that Hermione had written home to tell them about friends was one thing, but to have it confirmed that the little girl who had been bullied for years had real friends gave both dentists much relief. "My husband and I wanted to invite her to stay with us at some point over the summer-"

The force of nature that was Vernon Dursley had spotted Harry, hanging to the side of the group of adults with a blonde boy and bushy-haired girl. The great whale of a man swept through the crowd to take hold of Harry by the back of his shirt, in the process, knocking the other boy out of the way, and Hermione to the floor.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" Mr Granger cried, easily knocking Dursley's hand from it's grip on Harry, as Hermione's mother, carefully checked that her daughter was okay. "Take your hands off that child you great brute!"

"This miscreant is my nephew, and I will do whatever the bloody hell I-" Vernon's spluttering outrage was cut off by a very cold and imposing Lucius Malfoy bodily putting himself between the quickly purpling man and the three children who had gathered about the two mothers.

"You are Vernon Dursley." Lucius Malfoy spat. "You don't know me, but you will soon. Your nephew is a close friend of my son's, and he is under my protection. Don't think I don't know what has been going on under that roof of yours, and don't think I won't hesitate to stop it. If I had my way, and I still might, Harry would be living with me, and you, and your wife, and your juvenile son would be facing charges for all that Harry has suffered. Fortunately for you, the courts do not move that quickly, however I want you to understand that if you lay a finger on Harry, if you harm him in any way through your attentions or lack thereof, I _will_ kill you." Without taking his eyes off the Muggle, Lucius took out his wand and drew a circle around Harry's head, causing the boy to glow blue. "I will know exactly how he is, every minute of every day, and he will write to my son daily whilst he is in your _care_."

"You have no right to-"

"If I read this correctly, you're abusing your nephew. Can you tell me that isn't true?" Hermione's father stepped up next to Lucius, eyes also fixed on Vernon Dursley.

"That thing is-"

"That is answer enough for me." Mr Granger once more cut the other man off. "I'll be raising this with social services, I have friends in that field, you can be sure of a visit, so I would do exactly as Mr Malfoy has said or you most certainly will find yourself in a courtroom, and I for one will testify against you!"

"Come, Harry, we're going home." Vernon gritted out. "Hurry up, boy, I've not got all day!" With that the fat man stalked off, leaving Harry to follow on.

"Have a good holiday," he told his friends glumly.

"Trust me, we'll get you to the Manor at some point." Draco promised earnestly, as Harry left to chase after his uncle.

The two fathers turned to each other, respect in their eyes.

"In the magical world, it has been difficult to get that abominable family investigated, I am being blocked by somebody in our government." Lucius admitted slowly.

"Well then I'll get them investigated in ours." Mr Granger offered. "And I can tell you, I'm pretty sure there won't be positive findings."

"That would be much appreciated, Mr Granger. We all want the best for Harry."

"I think you'd better call me Dan, if my daughter is going to visit you."

"Lucius," The blond man smirked. "I'm glad we can come to an arrangement."

"Perhaps your son, and this Harry would also like to visit us."

Hermione and Draco just grinned to each other. Summer was looking up, with both of their fathers against the Dursleys, Harry just might stand a chance at getting out.

- HBP – HBP- HBP – HBP – HBP -

**To everyone still reading this, thank you. I'm well aware it's been a very long time since I last updated this, almost a year, in fact, however it has been a very busy one. In this last year I've moved out of the family home, started at university in a new city and am currently recovering from surgery. This story arc is not abandoned, and neither are any of my other stories. They should be updated over the next few weeks. If I do decide to abandon anything ever, I will put notes up to make you aware.**


	20. Harry Potter And Slytherin's Chamber

**This is your official notice that the first chapter of Harry Potter And Slytherin's Chamber has officially gone up on ff net – link on my profile! In case you're not sure whether to read or not, here's a teaser from the beginning of Chapter 1: What The Dursleys Did Next**

"He's out." The acerbic voice of Petunia Dursley travelled down the phone line.

"Do you know when he might be back, Mrs Dursley?" Hermione returned politely.

"No." Petunia snapped.

"Well then, do you know where he's gone?" Hermione persisted.

"No." Petunia repeated shortly. "Is that all?"

"I... er... I suppose so." Hermione flinched at the harsh click as the elder woman hung up. She bit her lip as she looked up at her father, who had stayed with her as she made the call.

"She said he was out again, did she?" He asked, frowning as Hermione nodded in agreement. "And you've not spoken to him at all this week, not since the station?"

"No, Daddy." Hermione's lower lip trembled. "I haven't talked to him at all."

"Perhaps it's about time to call my friend in Child Services." Mr Granger mused aloud. "Get him to escalate the concern I called in." Hermione bit her lip again.

"Maybe... Maybe I should write to Draco first. His father did put that charm on Harry, he might know a little bit more." Hermione's jaw set as she came to a decision. Her father sighed, having seen the same expression on the face of his wife many times – usually indicating he was about to lose an argument.

"Well then, sweetheart, why don't you go write your letter, and I'll tell your Mum we're taking a trip to London, so you can send it at that post office of yours. The sooner we send it, the sooner you'll get a reply."

"Thank you Daddy!" Hermione ran up and wrapped her arms around her father, hugging him tightly.

"Maybe we'll see about getting you an owl for yourself while we're there. Might save us from travelling into London so often." Mr Granger thought aloud, mentally tallying the cost in petrol of their recent number of trips to the capital. Looking down at his daughter he smiled, watching as she bounced up the stairs, mumbling happily to herself about an owl. "Don't forget that letter, Hermione!" He called after her as he resolved to go and tell her mother about the pet he'd just accidentally-on-purpose promised their daughter.


End file.
